Pregnant with a million Haikus

A lone letter box stands with a rusty lock hanging on it. I think of all the dead letters inside it. Five decades more if it survives the ever expanding roads and rails and empty hearts it will become an antique - precious and useless.

 Met a friend after one and a half decade on social media yesterday( as much as meeting is possible there.) She has the same smile, same radiant eyes. What is a virtue in life, I wonder? Somethings remaining unchanged and somethings constantly changing and knowing the difference.

The river flows

to a point of

no return

and comes back

as snow

 

 

What is the purpose of the silent alphabets in English words ?, the little one asks. I can't give her a linguistic answer so I buy some time and wonder what is the purpose of silent words in conversations?

 

Why is complexity fashionable and simplicity plain simple?

 

Old love letters in a closet

are they complex or simple

psychological assessments

medical alignments

mental confinements

 

I am pregnant

with a million haikus

only if

Hemingway's angst

would stop

drowning me.