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Friday, March 30, 2012

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Poem: Composition For She Who Walks on the Earth


There is no adjective to describe her.
But then, there is nothing
To summarize me.
Her name alone will do.
It fills me with tingles.
A few days ago I even heard her voice.
She spoke four simple words
And on the way home
I kept repeating them again and again.
I had not heard her voice in a long time.
Her mind is stale.
And her soul is but a broken mirror,
Reflecting only the worst aspects of life.
I can not hate her.
I am obsessed with her.
She is better at my passion than me,
And she is shrouded in mystique.
How can I not be fascinated by her?

The winter willow is washed in
Electric blue light,
The disco lights on the ceiling
But a universal aurora,
Shimmering and morphing and captivating me.
The balloons swirl in the air,
Their ribbons flailing.
They fall.
Why can’t you catch them?

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