Everything is red now..

Girl waiting for someone....

Eyes questing, the massive crowd
Voice impatient, to blast aloud
Every flower, fragrant with her soul
Right under, that thirsty pole
Years wept, without his glimpse
Time swept, in painful limps
Hearts will, reunite in a flash
Inhibiting tears, into that trash
Night ended, as he tread that ground
Gently turned , his head around

Innocent face, with enticing smiles
Stepped ahead, to end those miles

Roaring noise, tear her apart
Explosions, did blast his heart
Death urged him, to again depart

Numb amidst ,the bleeding soil
On ruins of her fate, she toil
Waiting endlessly, until time recoil

This was an impossible effort to frame up a moment of disaster which has shaken the foundations of heart of innumerable people in the past which run through newspaper as "13 serial blast in Delhi”. Every blast leaves some eyes with everlasting quest, some hearts with boundless ache & some hands with ruthless blood. Such narrations whenever told always leave eyes with mist of tears and hearts with pangs of fear.