reflective pigments

I miss our 8pm stroll that stretched to a good 11pm and the bitter scoldings that were doled out to us at the end of it. 

I miss how you’d tell me stories from books I’d never heard of.

I wonder sometimes if you’d tell me more when we meet again.

Of pigs with wings and autumn’s last leaves,

Of summer adventures in Palakkad,

Of moons with rainbow rings or of new letters from Sharon.

I wonder if we’d still discuss strange theories behind unsettling endings,

Draw together again,

Swoon over unusual hues in new boxes of colour-pencils.

I don’t remember what we talked about somedays,

except that we’d never run out of things to talk.

I miss laughing till our tummies hurt.

Dreaming of Japan and its Cherry trees,

“Hop on a cloud!” he said.

And so, I wished. Wished with all my might, wished with all my heart.

The winds conspired. A little late, a little away but a lot, lot closer.

I saw snow.

On my way, I met a friend who I’d longed to meet and ended up befriending 16 beautiful souls who are now, family.

Hugs ever so gentle,

soul like star crumbs from distant galaxies,

Mr.October is closest to the heart,

Tenth of the twelve,

He reeks of pumpkin ale and puffs up Millingtonia scented clouds,

A little short, a little stout, his temper quick to gain and to loose,

his heart though, kindles a  multitude of emotions,

as many as the colours autumn’s leaves hold.

Ah! his stories so wild and splendid,

The best to ever reach your ears.