Old Yet GOLD!

Fragrance of pastel shaded scented papers mixed with those of flowers, unique and special handwritings, using of starry elaborate words to communicate. All this assisted the traditional and “once upon a time proposals and love.”
  Sadly as technology gained prominence everything came behind a monotonous dull screen. It made communication so easy that the old and reverential idea of love receded to background. There was a time when the romance depicted in novels and book, plays and movies was as real as the land and sea. That romance was mad, extraordinary, exquisite and real. The person could feel it in each and every nerve.
  Proposals where one could feel the love brimming inside through the eyes, where one could sense the evidently radiating nervousness and where one could mirror the extreme ecstasy conveyed through the lips that couldn’t help but smile; are now extent. They have taken the form of text messages and calls in which a person can neither feel nor see the exclusive beauty of the moment.
  The importance of touch, expressions, tears and smile remains the same but people nowadays hardly get to experience them. It’s all through the gadgets.
  What if epic romances like Romeo Juliet, Pride and Prejudice, Caesar and Cleopatra, Gone with the Wind had no descriptions of intense feelings, heightened emotions, pain of separation, and happy climax through perils of miscommunication?  Would anyone read them? Would they have gained the place they have now?
  Technology, as is expected of it, has made things easier and yet it has taken away the very essence of life.

Fantasy…

Eyes so dreamy, eccentric to behold,
The body in here but not the soul.
She walked by, silent yet serene.
The crowd around unnoticed,
Her thoughts unrevealed.

Followed closely, someone in white,
Ghost or spirit from an ancient time.
Who stayed close but not too much,
Not seen by her or anyone,
Affected her but never touched.

Entered she in the real world,
Making conversations, a simple girl,
Laughing out loud on every joke.
But there it stayed, the pure white myth,
Swirling around with what looked like wings.

“Oh, sometimes I think…,” she said to a friend,
But paused halfway, afraid of something.
Probably to express what’s on her mind,
With no base in reality,
And not accepted worldwide.

So she continued her usual way,
Not quite herself but quietly there.
Not quite aware of the world around,
She dared to dream a forgotten dream,
A dream carefully buried down.

The day passed by like it always does,
Night visited then  like a regular guest.
Fair unknown had stayed all along,
Closer to her,
Than it was at dawn.

Gradually and slowly it embraced her once,
Gone eventually as reality was shunned.
Just then colors sparkled everywhere,
What once was room,
Was no longer there.

Instead there was a bright sunny day,
On a meadow where a dark haired girl laid.
Peaceful and tranquil like divine,
A slight smile of contentment,
That  reached her eyes.

Playing along with everything there,
Animals, trees, grass and her hair.
Jovial with a jingling laughter,
Happy to be there,
With nothing to go after.

This scene reflected a painting she saw,
In the times past when she was still raw.
A painter anonymous yet so known,
A painting,
Etched in heart for forever and more.

Just then there is something against the Sun,
Something that  glided in no hurry to run.
A shape obscure till it neared her eyes,
Her blinding smile conveyed it all.
It told that her fairytale had arrived.

A figure mounted on pearl white horse,
A knight in a shining armor of course.
A face still hidden from her view,
But the feeling
Was what she knew.

Eyes a mixture of blue and gray.
A tall structure and mysterious air.
A high held head but feet on ground.
A confident brow
But shyness didn’t drown.

Blissful moment of love and care,
Sealed with a hug and a kiss on her hair.
Trembling lips with horror unsaid,
So perfect a moment,
Would disappear at once.

To her despair it was day again,
Time to  leave the dreams at rest.
For another time another night,
Till they one day
Come actually to life.

And the white spirit again appeared,
Staying close again but never too near.
Its stayed there in times so dusty,
Its identity unclear
But people called it Fantasy.