Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Friday, December 30, 2016

With fondness

Ofttimes,
when I am buried
in files and work,
trying to grasp
the legalities and complexities
of service-rules,
I hear you,
calling out to me,
endearingly.
On occasions,
some of our conversations
replay and rewind,
fleshed out with
right expressions
and
exact timber of your voice.
So sincerely, tangibly, believably
here and now,
that the conception deceives me as well.
I smile, even dissolve in laughter.
All on my own.
Ridiculously. Recklessly.
Earlier colleagues used to trifle with me.
Or may be I would apologize.
Now they negate the episode.
Nowadays, even I am not sorry
for my little getaway.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Sorry 

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.