I drip into the palm of your hands
and make my home in the lines,
filling every crevice with myself
so I may always be by your side.

Little footsteps in this moon dust sand,
I chase my memories as they flee my grasp,
Racing the clouds to embrace the sun.

A heart, content, is left on your doorstep,
I hope, someday, the person you are meant to become will trace back the way I came and exchange the goodbyes we once hung
out to dry.

But until then, here in this momentary stillness
An opportune silence blooms into this heart of mine,
And it seems I've misplaced it in your moonlit palm

I listen to your heart
Beat in rhythm to the rain
Pouring out somber melodies.
The world drapes silent,
Where your eyes sing
Meteor shower wonders.
Sometimes,
It feels too much to grasp,
Tied to an endless
Invisible string around my palm.

she studies his soft features
with furrowed eyebrows,
catching every detail
in the palm of her hand.
the palm lines show their story.

as the rain poured upon my palms,
i’ve reached out just to feel your touch.

They , the grass carps
eat away the algae of my brooding from the pond of my feelings.
Like painters , they paint the blank canvases of my life with unforgettable sweet and beautiful moments by their delicate and innocuous jacose paint brushes.

Tickling me with loads of laughter by their innocuous hilarious acts is their shadow.

Folding the tender age of the two little beauties into my palms for ever is my fantasy and living with their childhood memories shall be my ice cubes on my burning wounds.