Two Thousand and Fourteen

Two thousand and fourteen – the year that started with a weep, and that ends with a weep. Regardless of the faint traces of silver lining on the horizon, this year has been the one to introspect and retrospect, way more than I ever imagined it to be possible. If I were designed to look back someday, this will definitely be one of the stretches I will look back to, for this is when and where the focus grew sharper and pellucid.

If I were to sum up the encasing of twenty-fourteen, the twelve-month period would relatively mirror this way:

They say welcome the New Year with a wisdom-filled age

January acquainted with me through a weepy Dutch Courage

The clichéd love is in the air may be so in the month of Valentine’s

The firsts of What’s Next? induced moods quite the opposite, of all kinds

Came a relief in March with a getaway as a birthday surprise

What else, but a blissful escape to a hilly reprise

No kidding, for t’was No Fool’s Day this year

Same difference as a professional, add to it a pinch of lilt and jeer

Labour’s Day is what they honour the workers with, in the month of May

No less than a struggler, reunited with Carnatic aeons after, reshot a tiny hope of ray

The bejewelled June with myriad weddings at The Plaza

The story no different here, if only it was the bhraata

Came an escapade to God’s own country and a monetary augmentation

Reckon the month passed by amidst fragmented anticipations

Retired on a month-long medication, for the hale, hearty and good

August lay low, amidst inflexible observance and strict food

Wake me up when September ends, says the track

Not yet, I reply, as I was to meet my folks, analogously being to the moon and back

October brought with it one of the most-awaited trips

Indeed a paradise, adorned with a broad and pouted bout of whitened lips

Indeed, as the highlight of the year strolled by, came November

The first of the stints that tested our will to surrender

For it was a six-week gap, before I was to see my better half again

December put patience and teary-eyes only to be accumulated, as one might, sands of grain

Indeed, two thousand and fourteen – the year that started with a weep, and that ends with a weep. For it beckons to nothing more than an anxious and a much-awaited tomorrow.

Your thoughts will lend me a smile :)

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