We all are stories in the end.
With a message,
Worth living by.
With every character.
Flipping pages of the travel journal,
Or the bookmark in your dairy,
The road trip in the mountains,
The wardrobe full of shades of grey.
The family evening and the cricket match,
The ‘chai’ and ‘purane yaar’.
Every moment you were alive,
In those pictures you posed for.
Weird faces but full of life.
To the songs you hum,
Looking outside the window.
Everything worth talking about
And everything else kept secret.
Cause we all are stories in the end.