The Window
I looked outside and found the evening waiting quietly,
verses · observations · notebook margins
Poetry Watching
i watch the world in small moments — the way light slants, the pause between two words, the quiet that says everything.
A Second Cup of Tea
the morning sits inside the porcelain steam rising like an unsaid thought between two friends who have forgotten how to hurry.
Classroom at 5 PM
chalk dust floating in slanted light, twenty empty chairs, twenty lingering questions fading softly into the late afternoon shadows.
Rain on the Corridor
it does not rush, the sudden monsoon — it simply stays until the dry pavement remembers how to be cool and still again.
Between Two Commits
a green cursor blinks in a dark terminal window, asking for nothing except a little patience and a clearer mind.
Sunday Light
to hold a book and read the same line twice — not because it was difficult, but because it was so true it felt like a quiet bell ringing in an empty room.