sharmila Ranade

There was a home
A home of a sort
Which held a generation of stories in its heart.
...

The long, lonely, pale road
Traverse through the colorful path

A moist pair of hopeless eyes
...

You were there in the little things of life
Me with uncalled, unsought behavior of mine

You seemed far away though always in heart
...

I wake up after a deep disturbed sleep, counting the pain of numerous nights.

Looking for a lost friend,
For an old, wrinkled, shaky hand of immense support.
...

When it fails to wet my eyes

and drain away the eternal pain
...

It takes the world to go around but my search never ends….

The search for warm touches, caring hugs and lovely sunshines..….
...