And I missed to give a call

Kept beside the  window was a filthy and dusted diary

storm had the pages waving

But  with the advent of heavy rain

Wind had to quickly take a reside in some new place

Till then the waving pages had taken a pause

But wind had already marked its second influence

The complete 2nd paragraph on that page

Was embellish by the fallen water paint

And finally what looked to be planned afterwards happened

My pair of eyes flew to those multicolored  lines

Only to find vary familiar handwriting

Written in bold red  "call 9787336583" dated "12\12\2009"

If I could remember it was the last day of school

If I could remember it was given to me by that someone

Whom I had been looking into , for atleast 5 years

Guess what IIT always works as climax in everyone's story

Physics , chemistry , math books were  piled up next  , diary at the bottom

Could never open  the diary and never add a word more

Until the storm came until the rain came until the water paint fell on it

 until it became dusted until it became filthy  until now

And I missed to give a call on that and in

A month I found I missed the IIT too (though approximately )

And now I wonder how did she reach to my diary

When  I had only asked for filling the slam book

And now I realize what I had missed what could already have been mine

years old dream suddenly blommed from grave
only to realize grave is still a better place
and left me with a fanitest echo of extremist optimism
"Thank god water paint didnt fell on the next few lines
"Thank god I didn’t go throw the next few lines "
What If it had ".............….. you"