I look at your Instagram
I reach out
My fingers find a cold screen
At the end of their journey
I want to know the back-story
I'd ask but
I'm too afraid to break the code
Is there one?
I've often wondered Your pictures weave a beautiful story
More beautiful than my feeble attempts
Story-telling is such a magical gift
Poetry is merely gilded
Emotional barfing
I've been bulimic
For so long
I've forgotten
What its like to be full I stumble upon words
My vocabulary is accidental
Its the reason I thought
I'd take up photography
And I've been hash-tagging my way
Along, since then,
On my Instagram But my prison has a limited view
There are only so many pictures
I can take
Of that beautiful sky
And its lonely gulls
This place has just 2 seasons
Worth shooting But your Instagram
Breathes and bounces
It has a life of its own
You make even a lonely
Telephone pole
Seem alluring I've had a good run
My life has been full
Of its own little magic
But its dull now
My attempts at coloring it
Seem almost desperate
I wonder... if I had your skill...
I wonder if I could
Instagram my life around (c) VedicVerses (Rucha Gokhale)