Wednesday, 2 July 2008

The Red Hue in the Cup.

It's early in the morning, merely an hour after the sun had awoken. I find myself still with my cup, watching the red liquid toss and splash as I tilt it to my will. At the foot of my bed, my loyal dog sleeps, and I keep quiet lest I should wake him. The blinds clacker in the circulating wind, as they have always clacked while filtering in the morning shine. Yet, it does not reach me - it has not, for some years now.

But, what of that?

I'd like to finish this last drink and hope that there shan't be another. It's odd how I began this torried love for them then for the taste, thereafter for the intoxication, and now, to forget, and would rather believe, that I began to forget, continued for the intoxication, and settled upon it for the taste.


  1. W'ful words there..
    You made me relate so much to it.

    Btw nice blog too...

  2. aww, thanks for taking the time to browse through my blog, shanker.
    Keep visiting :)

    "neither remember nor forget" - is that good or bad?
    waise, kis gham ko pi rahe hain app, if I may ask?

  3. you painted this picture so beautifully. I, for one, has always been unsuccessful in sketching a picture of early morning :-)

  4. Sach:
    I'm glad you could relate to it :)

    Well I will keep visiting - and sometimes, it's good, but just, sometimes.

    I think I've forgotten why I drink anymore :)


    Thank you, it certainly means a lot coming from you :)

  5. I now know about the loyal dog.

  6. Ah the sound of the blindes. I know that too