Tuesday, 17 June 2014


He saw a new face,
Sharing, teaching,
A scarf covering
One side of her face,
Her wisps of curly hair,
Her dark black eyes,
Mere glimpses.  She
Was beauty, she was grace.

Till one day, thunder
Roared, the wind howled,
Sheets of incessant rain.
Her scarf blew away,
No match for the gale. And
She turned, he flinched,
Her grace unmasked. He
Tried not to look away.

His face burnt with shame.
Horror. Anger. The scars
From a distant past. Did they
Make her lesser than whole?
But she smiled, she laughed, 
As the rain caressed her face,
Washing away the pain, baring
Her real grace, her unbeaten soul.

Sunday, 8 June 2014

Paper Memories

Paper memories
Tiny bits of paper,
Dreams colored and
wrapped with love,
A hut drenched in rain,
A bird too large,
The Sun's bright rays
The river, a boat,
A blue mountain.

She gives you her card,
Glued with imagination,
Painted with dreams,
Drawn with hope,
“I am busy.” you say
Absent maid,
ever-present boss,
Card discarded. Too much
For you to cope.

Tiny bits of paper
Faded colors,
Now line the walls,
Of the empty nest.
The cards are all
that’s left in time.
Time’s flown, so has she, 
taken all the rest.    

You dust each old card,
10 times a day,
Each forgotten moment,
Now a shadow of a wreath.
You pick up the phone,
You call, and you hear
“I am busy, Mummy”

Paper memories’ death.