Stubble mushrooming his chin
he showed up on the door
without his trademark grin
he looked clearly sore.

He motioned me to sit on a chair
in the room with low watt light
his sullen stare and disheveled hair
said things weren't alright.

I sat in the embarrassing silence
thinking what might be the cause
what lay behind the simmering suspense
why my friend looked so morose.

There wasn't a sound in the whole house
the creepy stillness was deafening
with only the clock ticking sleepy hours
carried the night on its wing.

Sensing something was definitely wrong
gauged from his eyes swollen red
his father I knew was ailing for long
surely he was mourning the dead.

Where's uncle I set words in pace
long time I haven't him heard
making a dispassionate face
he pointed his finger upward.

So proved true my worst fear
the son was mourning the demise
everything was now clear
my shock I couldn’t disguise.

For you what a terrible blow
so early for him to have gone
my words poured sad and slow
may his soul rest in heaven.

My friend now spoke in awed face
I couldn’t miss his perturbed glare

*My father is fine God bless
he is only resting upstairs!

Life becomes more enduring when simple.

Simple needs
Simple wants
Simple ways
Simple pleasures
Simple measures…

Attaining this though not simple

Is worth trying

Amid the challenging realization

It’s simply impossible!

Hair styles
Hair colors
Hairdos
Hairfall
Blonde
Brunette
Redhead
Grey
Or just black

A few strands of which
I found in her comb
In one untravelled recess of wardrobe
An untouched memento
From past two decades
Not graying
Not growing
Undeclined
Undestroyed

black and thick

the only relic

for her son!

Milka sat on her bicycle
looking at you
the Saturday morning sun
was warm

you'd just finished work
and had met her
by the bridge
where we going?

she asked
we could leave the bikes
at my place
and go into town

to the cinema
you said
what just sit there
in the dark

and not be able
to see each other
or such?
she said

we could ride
to where I used to live
and see the pond there
where I used to fish?

you said
is it far?
she said
not too far

she pulled a face
can't go to my place
she said
my mother's home

as she usually is
no chance
of being alone
with you there

she said grumpily
mine is no good
at weekends
you said

she looked at you
her eyes gazing
the old pond then
it is

she said
and you began to cycle
with her beside you
back up the hill

and by the farmhouse
where she lived
and along narrow lanes
between hedgerows

and birds flying out
and the occasional
car rushing by
she beside you

talking all the way
about how her mother
moans about her
not doing this or that

or not doing
the chores properly
and how her two brothers
tease her

about going out with you
and how you needed
to see a shrink
and you smile

knowing her brothers well
then you're on the main road
and a mile or so
and you are there

and go in
by the back way
along a narrow lane
and into the woods

behind the cottage
where you used to live
and along the narrow ride
through the woods

to the field
and then the pond
which is peaceful
and the water is still

and a few ducks
swim there
and birds sing
from tall trees

you rest the bikes
against trees
and sit on the grass
by the pond

quiet here
you said
we used to call this
the lake

who's we?
Milka said
my old girlfriend and I
you replied

where is she now?
we don't see
each other any more
you said

Milka said nothing
but gazed at the water
of the pond
at the ducks there

and looked
at the fish
just beneath
the surface

did you make out here?
she asked
now and then
you said

why bring me here?
she said moodily
it's quiet
and we can be alone

you said
is that all?
not wanting relive
old memories with me?

she said
you gazed at her
no of course not
that was a different thing

different love
so you say
she said
should we leave then?

you said
she stared at the pond
at the ducks drifting
and the sunlight

through the branches
of tall trees
no
she said

I like it here
she lay down
on the grass
sunlight on her face

her hands resting
on her abdomen
you lay beside her
did you really

make out here?
now and then
did no one see you?
not that we ever knew

you said
she smiled
risky
what if someone had?

we didn't think of that
at the time
bet you didn't
she said

what was it like
the first time?
it's history
you said

we're what matters now
she nodded
yes I guess we are
she said

and the sun shone bright
through the tall trees
and a bird flew by
over head.

Faster smoother communication
Texts flying freely in the air
But somewhere eerily dying the relation
Bred when you could just silently stare!
Gone are the years of shy look and snail mail
A distance of time-space that fanned it intense
The words though now are buzzing like gale
With the wind comes not the romance’s incense!
Flew away the time them now would never know
Of waiting in hushed noon for the mailman’s bell
Running the fingers in the warmth of a blue glow
With the lovelorn heart in pursuit of a fairytale!