Habits Of A Wanderer

My heart beats faster when I say your name All I struggle is to live with you When you look at me, I be the rain I will be the tears in your Love What will I be without you I will burn to ashes You won me by your beauty You seized me by your look You gave meaning to my birth as a girl You gave me blushes which I didn't know earlier My world was lone, you came with flowers Oh my love, with my pursuing dreams What will I be without you  I will burn to ashes  Your black tress feels like a flute The whole life I will spend whispering to your ears  All I need is to rest on your chest All my worries will disappear then Other than your Love, I have nothing Oh my love, nothing other than that What will I be without you  I will burn to ashes 

Before your story telling eyes, I wonder what to speak,dear Desire seethes, I feel feverish, Before your story telling eyes.. I wonder what to tell,dear Love boils me.. I fell feverish!! Without my knowledge.. My legs floats somewhere, Its neither dark nor bright Yet the sky is colourful... Before your telling eyes, I wonder what to speak,dear Desire seethes, I feel feverish, I fell your fragrance, everywhere i go to.. Every moment with you is sweet.. Home is just not made of sand and bricks, It is made of love only.. Lying on the floor and looking at the sky is superb.. but seeing you is even better.. Your lap is  the place where i feel very comfortable!! Before your telling eyes, I wonder what to speak,dear Desire seethes, I feel feverish, My world starts with you and ends there. My days rise to watch your face and enjoy.. We shall be children in night's lap We should get into the depth of darkness Your agony will inflame as fire, In the rain the whole fire will

Love, like you, need to be experience with a relaxed heart, but at some sense, a heart that also induce strength because you, like the splendor of love, is fiery and at times, times like now, highly confusing and excruciatingly entertaining. Love, like you, is under-appreciated and like the waterfalls in high mountains, you, the beauty in nature, should be recognized beyond godliness or divinity. You, like love…like the beauty of God’s creation, needs to be appreciated and caressed with hands made of sweet chocolates and perfumed roses. You, like love, is my only conscience; my only grandeur...my bittersweet existence.

        In all religion wedding is a big event where all family members will get together..My brother Vinood got married on the 6th of February 2011,which falls on a Sunday and if i am not mistaken it is 1 day before school reopens after 9 days of school holiday for Chinese New Year..The wedding was help at Tapah which my brother's hometown. I went to his house 3 days before so that i can help them out with the preparations and also he was suppose to teach me add maths!!!        Well for indians they have some kind of ceremonies 2days before the wedding which is called nalengge.On the first day of the nalengge its the mother one where all mothers will do for him..if you are not an indian high changes that you don't understand...some pictures from day 1: this what they will give after the ceremony well it was the same also the 2nd day but 2nd day was all aunties doing..some pictures: At last the day came where my brother got married..some pictures from that mem

With you, I am human. Not just an ID number. Not just a job description. Not just a statistic. Not any of those external labels that are applied to us as we go through the course of our lives. You take me for who I am. The quirks, the hang-ups, the bad memories, the scars, the dreams, the secrets, the habits, the million and one little things that makes me me. You take all of that, say 'I see you. And I choose you still.' Because of that, I'll let you see me.

t ired of lugging his shell, every fibre in schnell’s shapeless form craved adventure. adventure, by his definition, was to fly gracefully through the air. “blasted cockroaches”, he grumbled. “foulest creatures ever, yet they get to fly!”, he continued—slithering over a piece of paper. then it hit him. “a piece of paper!”, he exclaimed. “…if folded right, will fly!”, he exclaimed again. 3 days later, the craft was complete. “tough work, this”, he moaned; looking over his paper cut-riddled body. “perhaps rubbing some salt will ease the pain.” and that was the last we heard from schnell the snail.