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I write about Love
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Every Last Sunday* New
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I started writing every Last Sunday of the Month
Living
out of a Suitcase
“The world is what you make of it”
Once upon a time… there was a Khanabadosh as we Punjabi’s
call it, Gypsy if you may; dainty as it gets
She packs her bag with dreams, SHOES & the whole
Shebang! So you know it’s a big one
She had an Always take the weather with you
attitude. Someone cool & could literally scream out from her hair “Wherever I lay my head is home”
She wanted Everything at once! Adventure of a lifetime that changed everything
Tasting the finest things in life, from Bottomless
cocktails to them Veganuary delights you find in fancy cafes. I mean Fuckin A
Alive & kickin real time
Like a bunny hopping around airbnbs hotel rooms
& how
She doesn’t know which country she is sleeping
tonight & which she wakes up in
Short lived Global Trotter, Country hopper which
she so was
Bumping into those Hippies to 420 friendly to
Bagpackers
Are you kidding me
The excitement, the craze, the thrill... not forgetting the jetlag
Hmmm grass looks greener on the other side
She had a Change of heart
The voice shouts out - How does a girl like you
end up… a girl like you?
feels you don’t belong
Some have the Appetite for it while some don’t…
Check this out, What you call the crazy crowd in
a local Bombay train uncomfortable some call it environment in a nightclub.
She doesn’t wanna be a cowboy!
Duuu…
She lands up in a God forsaken town, She is in No
mans land
Difficult as it is
Life happens De facto
What you kids call it nowadays… Vacay is it,
she calls a walk in the park
So which was once exciting is now boring when
you miss home
Don’t know what hit her
The distance inside grew faster than the space
apart
In the middle of nowhere
The voice inside tells her again “I just hope
you know when the time has come to Wrap this shit up”
Easier for the mind harder for the heart, Overwhelmed!
Shit gets complicated
Where there was a whole lot now there is a hole
She said “its not even funny how I Long for the
touch of home”
Miss the road that goes to love “I can live
without you but I don’t want to...
She reasons with herself when the street goes
silent, Finding the lost purpose
Still learning to love herself while her heart
is with someone else
Someone said “Allow your Passion to become your purpose & it will
one day become your Profession”
Gracias Muchacho
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