window sill

There are stories that windowsill can say. Many stories...stories if love, stories of fear, stories of Anger, Stories of lust, Stories of longing, stories of mischievousness, stories of romance, stories of childhood, stories of adolescence, stories of adulthood and old age..and then the never ending anticipation to embrace eternity through the steel bars of the windows that lets in last streaks of sunlight. The dust caught up on the glasses would tell the story of the golden threshold of april.The mango showers that race down the window panes would tell the story of two lovers too caught up with each other in their moment of love cuddled up in a rainy evening.  Some other heavy monsoon that follows would roll down the memories of a lost childhood patiently waiting for the chocolate boxes of sweet nothings and promises that were made to be broken. These raindrops that roll down the spine of the windowsill would intermingle with each other to form a a large tear drop that would escape from the cold state of a rainy day. There after every steamy cup of freshly brewed coffee reminds one of that rainy days that wrapped them up in a cozy blanket and the kisses that they stole from each other. The there is this lovely mist that glasses capture in the ragging breath of the lovers that they intentionally draws down to draw a misty heart that fades away easily to draw again with an arrow through it and then draw again to mess up the the wintery nights.....