Born on a windy day,
I love the way, she messes my hair
To watch birds fly
Their grace, the ease and oh so high.
Born on warm night,
I choose the anxious heat over calm cold,
The warm hugs rather a cold stare
And hot coffee over cold anytime.
Born at the end of summer,
I love mangoes, melons and the mesmerizing nights
Filled with laughter and mischief
As we cousins unite.
Born before rains, you see
I love to cuddle by the window sill
To gaze as the drops dance for the beat
Of lighting and thunder and I wonder.. Something warm
would be nice.
There is no explanation to this,
Being born is eligible enough, I guess
A bookworm I am.
The seasons change, everything re-arrange,
But a book always remains.
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