silly smiles on faces of children
gutsy winds and a sudden ballooning of skirts
rain on my face as i watch a darkening sky
the sudden lurch of a bus as it crosses a puddle nearby
watching the warmth of the day breathing a heartfelt sigh
your laugh spreads it’s own sunshine
even as you scramble to hold onto
the last vestiges of a dying day
one that came upon moodily and
recedes ever so reluctantly
fading into the evolving storm
somewhere the mosaic of a setting sun
that you and i have been witness too
but i don’t know you and you
wax along with the moon
somewhere between milling crowds and
billowing breeze our paths have crossed
traveling side by side, but
strangers we remain to distant shores
a bench in the park longs for your return
and i traipse through life like the sunflower does
maybe you’ve been the haunting eyes
i spied in the market place ages ago
but if you don’t tell me your name ..i’ll never know
an unanswered text from eons ago
a paper napkin with your doodles
and a song with lyrics that refuses to go
a broken kiss, a heartfelt hug
a charm bracelet, with sunshine no more
divinity in a cup, infinity on my mind
fleeting seasons with no reason or rhyme
little red box with mementoes alone
a mindful of memoirs, no labels no shore
a sky inundated with paprika helloes
fallen leaves and a collection of raindrops
and I still yearn for more?
she stood aloof watching the barrage
her lowered eyes hiding the glaze
the september sun toyed with her hair
the platform abuzz with all the crowd
nameless faces and bustling bodies
trains that came and went and carried along
lives & song and destinies all at once
he stood solid, sipping his tea
his mind alive with all that could be
his face a mask of urbane sanity
the scent of jasmine drew him in
as did her silhouette in chiffon
one look at her was all it took
to reign in thoughts of september, 2002
she boarded a train bound for west
he watched from afar, strangely bereft
a look into the mirror
takes you back in time
when love was many a stolen glance
between puffs of winding smoke
when tea came cheap at two pence each
but to catch a glimpse of you, they came from far
when in between banter and many a verse
someone lost their nerve
while your smile was like the ode to joy
you sit now in quiet contemplation
writing a dispassionate prose
we are both past the age of poetry and till-now-forgotten loves, you see
you order two cups of tea
one for you
and one for me?
…it’s an old photograph tucked away in a myriad folds
and yet every once in a while she stares at the gurgling laughter
and the strength of the hold
…she recalls the love and the warmth of a home
much before the big world, swallowed her whole
….a solitary moment captured in a sepia print
from days long ago
….and now when the storms rage and sometimes when the lights wane
against the flicker of candle light
….arises a smile, reminiscent of the little girl
that she used to know
soulful and strong the the muezzin’s call, pierces the dawn
i stare at an endless maze of buildings fawn
the sun settles for an evening gone
a flurry of doves break from their twilight spell
flying over the spires of the dome high
i close my eyes
the lights dim down.
The wind is heavy with the luscious goodness of unfallen rain…leaves behave like they have no nest…the sun a truant boy bouncing off curtains long…the smell of spiced tea with cinnamon strong…me ensconced in a layer of lyrics hauled up from various cupboards of the mind…serenading the innocence of yesterdays.
you could be happy…
….become real in more ways than I allow myself to imagine. Did he call me or was I conversing with him in chapter six of my book…and were I not to hear the phone ring am I hoping it does or does it lie mute against all my fervent prayers muttered in great angst to all my gods. Am I the vagabond living on skipped dreams or do I really show up from time to time in the rat race…do I often huddle down the rabbit hole in hopes of slinging sallies with the caterpillar or do I do that in every other piece of conversation…is Mckenzie my pup or am I just walking him for you… have we met here or then there on the white spaces of my notebook….will you be coming over for dinner or have I just set the table for one?
I collect memories like others do sea shells…and I house them in little jars of colored glass…and when the rain drops incessantly I sit and open my jars quite like I was looking for a cookie …what comes out are remnants of life pieced together in a manner that I like and believe..what is it they say about the whole being bigger than the sum of the parts? Sometimes just sometimes I wish the parts would take up a life of their own and create their very own story….like echoes in the dark.
soulleitmotifs 