representing different times and moods

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

On the first night of winter

The rustled whispers,
Of moving boughs.
Go through my eyes,
To my heart.

Talk to us, they say,
Let us see, they say.
Under those layers,
beats a warm heart.

Overflowing with wonder,
Ah! what a blessing.
That the magic of the night,
Should always survive.

Delight, that you can hear,
The howls of the Saharan winds,
Carried, on the whispers here.
Or the scent of the gurgling ocean,
so near.
So much - oh delight!
That you can smell the Savannah,
ere light!

Blessed, Blessed, sung my heart,
In reply to the wind's demand.
For I am a particle,
here and no where, thus everywhere.
I am a thought,
A vision,
An idea.

Feet, weary, of polished floors,
fall naked, on cushions of green.
Grass, full of pearls,
half a quiver, half freezing.
Roses, a bloom, in a garden,
Regained their perfumes,

Each a subtle song,
Carried on the cool air.
What changed O' flowers?
You never smelled in Summer.
Maybe all that is touched,
By this wind of everywhere,
Echoes and calls,
Sings everywhere.


I want to walk with you,
These streets , full of memories,
Let us not talk,
Let us not speak.
Just walk,
And delight.

I show you something, you show me something else,
I talk to the flowers, you laugh with them,
We, in a reverie , but not alone,
not together either.
Just being.


I came home after work and was excited with the prospect of having an evening off , usually, my days are full to the brim, up until 9 pm most days, after which I come home, shower and go to bed after talking with people.I went for a walk, I wrote, and am still excited  at the prospect of cooking hot dinner and eating it off of a plate and not a lunch box, a hasty something put together in the wee hours of the morning, cold but sustaining. I am going to cook something amazing and gorge on it.

Love me world :)

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