A big mug of coffee:

Some choices are ours to make…some are made by others for us…some we accept some we regret…and some we bear to live with; rather I should say dare…this is a story of that extra mile I took, to live it…that mile which made me fail myself, though I excelled in every examination…that extra mile, where, around the bend…under the big oak tree, where I saw the woodpecker go peck-peck-peck-peck…I lost the key to my self-regard…I know where to find that bend…I know the latitude which passes through it…but I am scared that I won’t know the way back. Yes I am scared to be lost inspite of knowing the way a little too well…

1:49 am on a Saturday morning:

Coffee brewed by hand tastes much better than the one paid for…the extra effort counts…the exercise keeps the wheels of thought running…they keep you happy and thinking…thinking of all the sad stuff though…I like it bitter…with less sugar I mean…the sweetness of the milk tingles the cells of my palate…I shiver reveling in its heat…

The bitter aftertaste:

It leaves a trail of taste…one which lingers on the tongue…leaves me wishing that it was gone…excessive indulgence is a bad thing they say…every negative has a positive…the shadow is, but a positive…the view from where I was perched, was broader yet veiled…

The hot stream…

It flows over the mountains and the cliffs…down the valley of my neck…and warms my heart…the salt in the lake doesn’t prevent me from plunging into the deep end…letting all the water drench the cracking land around…