Thursday, January 13, 2011

The Crimson Scarf


When she turned eighteen,
she was lovely with eyes, emrald green,
Struck by silly youthful desires,
A boy set her heart on fire,
With flushed face and excited voice,
she had told her mom about her choice,
and as it was her first prom night,
her mom knit her a magnificient crimson
scarf with so much love and delight,


After 15 years the boy is her old man and the father
of her cute and chirpy daughter,
And often she had felt titillated by the muse,
when her little angel will be in her shoes,
be besotted by her "knight in shining armour",
like any other girl treasuring this dream to die for,
then she would pass her on the crimson scarf,
given by her mother in celebration for being in love,
One fine day, with curiosity gleaming in her eyes,
she asked her daughter about her likes and pass bys,
After an extended, frisky but bolstered prodding,
Finally, she got her little daughter speaking, 
"Mom, her name is Susan who makes me feel weak at knees",


With a barren mind and overweight heart, her world came to a freeze ,
She could manage her clumsy hand on her angel's shoulder,
drinking in the fact, her little angel was peculiar,
that no knight in shining armor was coming for her, ever.


Buried deep inside for more than two decades now,
the crimson scarf in her closet could never make its way out...

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

The ephemeral moments..



I am tucked very comfortably in my blanket,
but there is a chill that slithers inside like the breeze outside,
Since I walked out of the office today,
I am a retired bloke.

The memories of last 25 years flash through my mind.
It feels like watching a slide show of photographs in an old dilapidated theatre.

My untiring endurance and sartorial elegance,
to the the lines on face and the grey ruffled hair,
The whispers in the night while making love,
to the struggle to howl for a glass of water ,  
Getting high on weed at Robin's,
to the daily morning shots of Insulin,
The shrieks of the kids playing all around,
to the awareness of the lull  that surrounds,
The confusion, whether to celebrate or lament
the fleeting time renders me weak.
Good night.