Your smells of a warm winter,
a warm embrace and an icy kiss.
I love your winter flavours on my lips ––
taste of summers I do not miss.
Your cinnamon, musk smells
waft through my lungs and heart.
You say we can’t be lovers,
we are from two worlds apart.
The winter comes and goes,
sometimes lovers do return.
But, on the diaphanous wings of a moth
I place my love, for it to burn.
Because there is pure love after selfish love,
an ambrosial potion, sweetest.
And generous, golden sunshine
after tumultuous tempest.
And so I love you, Simon Cuddlebug,
just like a child does her favorite friend.
There is only a love filled warm heart,
nothing feels broken – no more a need to mend.
And because each story needs a complete end…
On quiet nights we chase shadows,
watch a distant star.
Hold hands like children in love
while I fall in love with your eyebrow scar.
the poet goes
A lump in the throat
and aching toes.
But she gets given
a kiss on the nose –
(sugary treat for aching heart )
for her silken prose.
A strange winter that was.
The trees bore no fruits
the skies showed no sign of clouds.
Where have the sky-men gone?
I last saw them dance on the mountain peaks
in their cotton-seed light vessels that floated endlessly.
What a song that was
when prayer flags fluttered in the night skies.
I once saw moon rise from behind the mountain peak
and sing sorrowful serenades to the beautiful valley.
In the city-scape filled with poles
that hold conversations about jobs and new apartments bought.
Where has the carefree noon gone?
A walk alone to where the sky-men lived
a cup of cinnamon coffee,
a winter-flavoured bidi’s warmth
and the truth about why we should live.
they flew on giant inflated sails
against blue skies and floated above the clouds so high.
The lines like strings of a harp
they played a song so silent,
it floated and nestled in my heart.
I carry in my heart, silent song of the sky-men.
I carry in my palm fortunes intangible.
I carry in my heart only love songs of silence.
I rolled all my sorrows
and excruciating pain from these dark hours
in a cigarette and lit it with resolve.
It was after all
always a single glowing tip
and a lonely ride to the stars.
And hell yes, it’s been a fun ride.
Reorganized my shelf and myself
Layers of dust removed off my mind’s ellipses.
Care to visit me there sometime?
I will make you chestnut flavoured coffee and peach cake.
I would like to
remember your dream
its background score mellow.
In which I place a little poem
of feathered love
under your soft pillow.
And send you
a gentle kiss
on the beak of a swallow.