treasure for readers

  Better Late Than Never ~Srimoyee Dutta   The memory of our farewell party lingered like a bittersweet melody, a silent echo of unspoken goodbyes. I yearned to etch his image permanently in my mind, a tangible reminder of stolen glances and whispered conversations. Yet, courage fled me at the crucial moment, leaving me with a hollow ache and a photograph uncaptured. The following days were a haunting montage of stolen moments replaying on a loop in my mind: the shy brush of shoulders in the hallway, the electric spark when our fingertips grazed as we exchanged papers, the way his gaze seemed to linger just a beat too long. These seemingly insignificant interactions sent fluttering butterflies through my stomach, leaving me inexplicably sad whenever he wasn't around. Was I the only one who noticed these subtle nuances? Did his heart skip a beat as well, or was it simply wishful thinking - fueled by a yearning I couldn't articulate? The stolen glances, if there were any, offered

  Love's Tapestry  ~Srimoyee Dutta                 For the nurturers, love blooms in gentle acts, A warm embrace that soothes life's bitter facts. For the whispers, it's secrets shared, Vulnerability bared, burdens unafraid. For the healers, love's a balm so sweet, Mending wounds with touch, ever so discreet. For the romantics, it's a whispered sigh, A stolen glance beneath a starlit sky. For the artists, it's a brush's stroke, Passion poured on canvas, every heart-felt spoke. For the playful souls, it's laughter's light, A spontaneous dance in pale moonlight. For the poets, it's sonnets penned in dew, Each verse a testament, forever true. For the warriors, it's the strength to fight, Side by side, bathed in love's eternal light. For the givers, it's a crimson rose, A token placed where affection softly glows. For the dreamers, it's whispered desires, Shared fantasies set ablaze by soul's own fires. For the adventurers, it'