I
love meeting strangers
For
some strange reasons
With
no expectations and
Disappointments that follow
It
allows the heart to flow
The
way it wants
Without
any wants
Of
anything in return
There
is a warmth in
Having
a person as your company
No
matter even if he is a stranger
When you are travelling alone
When you are trudging a path on your own
But
this gayness doesn't last long
Your
heart wants to experience
The
joy again
But
the next time you meet
You
are no longer strangers
You
have expectations
And
impressions
Which
will not always be
met
The
flower has withered
The
stream has been polluted
Can
we make the withered
Flower
flower again?
Can
we clean the stream
To
make it innocent again?
Can
we be strangers again?
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
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