Mixed and muddled from every end
Seemingly unaware of an end
Fend for the self I have to
Dealing with battles within
Glamorous choices laid out right outside
Could even turn out to be quicksand...!
How was I to know?
Sometimes, just a phone call could be magical
Changing destiny, most of all, soothing, relieving....
A sigh of relief...
Setting an unusually free breath of air
Like how old skin sheds and paves way for the novel...
In the tranquil chillness of the January night
For my ‘serendipitous’ page I write
With a relaxed sense of a certain victorious feel
Letting out bottled-up emotions hit the ceiling
Doing me a poetic, therapeutic healing...!