Today it’s different outside, not that clumsy, wet, sullen morning
My wish is to see the same sunset which I witnessed awestruck from my attic, 
I catastrophize each day thinking of you far away, 
Which way did you come back to my home again...?
        
...
    
        My dream love has become a legend...so perfect so pristine, surreal  and divine
whom will see, touch and desire but cannot possess...or may acquire again in dreams
My dream is a teaser to an eternal truth of  an end
Its an embellishment, a soothing balm and an energy potion to drag myself a bit further
        
...
    
                    A Fictitious Day
                    
                    Today it’s different outside, not that clumsy, wet, sullen morning
My wish is to see the same sunset which I witnessed awestruck from my attic, 
I catastrophize each day thinking of you far away, 
Which way did you come back to my home again...? 
Come don’t go! Here I narrate ‘This Day’; so beautiful so charming yet so alone
Lend me your touch one more time so that I take you to my attic still frozen and plundered; 
	
I see the clouds playing the game of shadows with the dying sun, and there a child sitting deserted waiting for his morning run…
I see an old toothless lady dragging herself to the fresh market covered head to toe with age and aye clothes! 
I see bunch of daily wagers singing and welcoming Obama it sounds as if their hope touches the surf on Michigan lake shore.
I see an old couple holding hands... They are still in love…
And I see you  shining and bright brushing my lips with yours, teasing me with your fresh stubble, distracting me with your oh so warm hands, 
I see your eyes smirk at me but why? Now I know …
You don’t see any one but me, and I behold the truth that you don’t exist to me.
A myth, an illusion, another sunny day…
(Ananya)