This is not my home

Help me find my home
Home is where my parents stay
My mother goes to work

My father goes to work
Know that I don't belong here
I am an orphan

When they come back home
They are busy with chores
As time passes by

Soon it is bed time
No one reads stories to me
I am an orphan.

This is not my home
There should be some other place
Where love has some space.

Written for Haiku Horizons: prompt "home"

Autumn romance

As he drove the car into the garage, he thought.

My wife is waiting for me, like all the twenty-five years of marriage she did. It's our anniversary again. Of love, of our sacrifices for our parents, of our sacrifices for our children and of our marriage. Every time she or I traded off our sacrifice for their happiness, we sat in our balcony, sipping tea and staring into the unknown distance. After all, life is all about our parents and children, I used to say. Not once, not once did my wife disagree or complain. She never demanded for anything. And today when I look at her wrinkled and old face, I still see a smile hidden. The smile of acceptance of what life has given her and of what she has given back. 

As his wife opened the door, he shouted, "Surprise! I came early to take you out for dinner, darling. Happy wedding anniversary!"

Written for Magpie Tales: Mag 239

Your love

To you,

Your love is intoxicating. It's like a high. I feel so drugged that I lose my senses. Is it love at all, in the first place? Love is supposed to give a peaceful soothing effect. But this takes me to the highest of highs and that's when I fear the most with the fear of falling to the lowest of lows. 

The light was lit to cure the darkness of my house. But, the spark burnt my whole life to cinders.

With indifference,

Me.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 236