The farm is no longer the farm I knew

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wilderness
of shrubs and bushes
but they too bear flowers
that know how to exude fragrance

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Distance means nothing when
the wings you give words
are like the gossamer
see through
dainty
a riot of color
words fluttering away
like a swarm of butterflies
from the meadows
across the nape of neck
making way to tummy
bringing a smile on scarlet lips
that no time can ever take away

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Some people seem like they don't exist. They don't show up too often. But when they do, they do at the right time. They don't crave attention. They don't try to possess. They just let us be. They give us the freedom. Unlike the mid-day sun blinding us with its radiance, they are mellow, peeking from behind grey clouds to light up our skies and we glow differently in their presence. They are keepers. Cherish them.

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Is that not enough
or good enough
of a reason?

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Wrapped in layers of mystery
For you to gingerly unravel
And find moon, stars and glitters.

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I hold onto hope
Like how a strand of hair
holds onto the button
Pulling me closer to him
Until all I can hear is
The rhythm of hope.

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Body, mind and soul

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tasks become laundry
Some piling up in a corner
Some spilling over the basket
Some crammed on the clothesline
Some snubbed away in the machine
Waiting for the sun to peek out
Yet you can never lay hands on what you need
The missing pajama
The much wanted lingerie
The worn out Turkish towel
The intimidating deadlines
making you feel unaccomplished
as you hit the bed.

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Enough!

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