The love of now isn't the love of then.
My arms heavier, your cheeks chubbier.
My lenses thick, you walk with stick.
My hair dyed, your teeth prescribed.
My hands trembling, your lips quivering.
And love... Struggling.
To be now, like it was then.
Too old we are...for restoration.
The white canvas stands opposite me… As I hold the board of various bright colours… Still deciding on the first stroke…! White can adapt any colour…any combination… Yet I fail to make a selection…! This makes me wonder… Do I prefer it as it is…Serene, pure and clear…? “What if I paint you red…?” I ask the canvas. The colour symbolizing two opposite extremes...of love and hatred…! “No, I have never been on the edges, I keep a balance…,” you rightly said! “What if I paint you blue…?” I ask again. The colour of tranquility, royalty and freedom…! You are not convinced, “The uproar inside me also needs a presentation!” “What about pink...?” I inquire. The colour of innocence, beauty and optimism…! You smile and say, “You want me to own the trait of feminism?”… “Ok then the colour green…?” I say. The colour of nature, life, self respect and grace…! “But it holds a thin line of jealousy as well...,” you state. Finally you question- “Why do you want to limit my horizon… A colour would only restrict my imagination…