A perfect holiday is when you don’t remember,
under the dark sea blue sky of December,
For how long at the stars you gazed..?
Spotting each constellation as a kid you had crazed!!
If just spotting was not enough
Discovering my own also was not tough..
‘The Footballer’ I drew with my imaginary lines
V neck t-shirt and dressed to the nines.
Talking to stars, as if I understood their language
Anyone who tried to contact- please leave a message
"I want to see a shooting star" thee said
As if spontaneous, I pointed: "quick, look behind ur head"
The diamond studded sky was my personal drawing board,
the breeze and the waves, played the music in silent mode..
the sand in my feet, soaking my weight away,
the candle on the table, reminding me to burn and light today.
It was morning only when my lips kissed the chilled wine..
N/A was the answer when asked ‘last night where did we dine?’
Clicking pictures of the view was such a waste of time,
Never seen a picture that captured the beauty of a sunset the way I saw
the sun the ship the water the beer and me in a perfect line.
There was only one rule thy followed,
Plan less do more,
Swim less, lazy on the shore
Brain less, heart to the core.
Note:
-they say if you wish on a shooting star, your wish comes true.... if that is to be believed and this holiday was for real, i assume i was caught in a METEOR SHOWER..
-i have actually been able to spot 'The Footballer' on a clear sky night.... its next to the Orient (the hunter) and the small dipper forms its cuffs.