Monotone

A shaft of white from a parted curtain,
Teardrop on an old pillow
Fingers made dark by night
Half a pillow away from you

My heart empties itself in tears
And strangles me.

Darkness muffles
Like a hag in a rough tattered blanket
Disheveled

Deep breaths as I lust
This unknown moment
Yielding, sighing and then still

Wet-with tears

A foolish hope
To be forever bathed in this moment
Wanting something, feeling nothing
A shadow soaked in rain

Sunrise
Tears stop

Sameness
Falls.

Wet Sand

All those happy moments
Beautiful sea shells,
Laid out in the soft wet sand,
by the first wave.
Dragged and crushed by the second.

Our footprints outlined
In petals

There by the wayside
Lies
The ravaged core,
tossed away,
Bruised and twisted
All that remains
After desperate fingers,
And a faithless heart,
Have plucked out,
All the tender petals,
On this path
To play
He loves me,
He loves me not.

That gleaming plaque of wood
Our names
Carved out.
Intricate care
Infinite patience,
Now rotting
Soft and blackened

A steady stream of tears

On soft wet sand.

Sunshine and Shadows/ Our friendship and our Ego

She says we never fight…
But could we ever…fight?
O Yes, we could…But we can’t…
For the price is too high.. or is it?
… and what would we fight about?
We understand each other so totally
She says we are the closest to being one…
Yes… so close… and yet… we never fight
For we have paid the price for closeness
And set ourselves far apart… no… not ourselves, not our heart, not our minds,
But that one thing that subtly threatens to tear us apart
- never obvious… but always there – like our shadow in the sunshine.

We seek the sunshine of laughter
And the moonshine contentment
So secure…yet the shadow remains.

Perhaps it is good… No, it IS good…
Let the shadow remain…for without them,
What proof do I have that we live? ... that there is sunshine and moonshine?...
Not just to heat us…but to shine upon us
…and to cast out that dark forbidden thing
…upon the floor… where it belongs… and NOT in our heart… and our minds
…Its talons ready to shred the precious fabric of our love.
…and so we dance…like skaters on thin ice…
Swooping each other in graceful circles
Our hearts filled with a fire warmer than love…that of trust…
On lookers say we can’t afford to miss a step…or step too hard…
The ice will break…but I know we won’t… miss a step… or a heartbeat…and so we dance…

I grow reckless…we swirl faster…does she too…yes, she does…
The ice creaks ecstatically…the cold water claws its way up our legs, our hearts, our neck, our lips…but I still have her hand in mine… and our eyes still glow warm…
We will get through this too… we will…
All our sunshine memories will warm us and all the moonshine shall cool the water into ice… and we shall dance again…
A much more tender, yet surer dance.

And when sunshine comes, we shall run after the colorful dreams of spring …TOGETHER…

Musings On A Rainy Day

It is raining out there. A grey afternoon- not necessarily a gloomy one.

An afternoon to luxuriate in the memory of the five senses, punctuated of course, by the soggy, muddy ones as well.

The smell of hot chocolate muffins,
The cold iron railing of the balcony, pressing against my arms,

Feet hurrying down the waterlogged road,
when sploosh goes a black tyre,
spraying brown mud on a sunshiny yellow dress.

Sounds of wet boots squelching
on a fragrant, newly wiped white tiled floor.

The first shiver as cold fabric touches warm skin,
and then, the comfort of wearing that old, almost worn out cotton tee
bought way back when it was two sizes too big.
Wrinkled and sagging and warm
like the touch of a much adored grandmother’s hands.

A game of Scrabble,
sipping tea from mismatched cups
while one hand wanders
towards the third bowl of potato chips.
The bathroom scales can wait!

The dank smell of that old closet
Left unaired.

A patch of green overrun with weeds
There’s a lot of work to be done
When the rain stops

But till then…

Raindrops drip-drop
from leaf to leaf
of the sapling bought last week –

poised momentarily
on the mouth
of a bud that is to blossom
on the day after tomorrow,

disappearing finally into the dark soil

All so young,
Rough and sturdy
Full of life
now visible,
now ,the rushing current
within.

Urgent

A joyous sparring
of the old
And the new.

Some to be scrubbed clean
Some to never be
Some, to make way
for the next moment,

Some
To refresh
The garden within me.