The grey gives way to fuchsia pink  
And light falls softly upon the trees
It’s then, he's seen - the morning sun —
With his fingers of gold and earthy honey
That wake the sleepy land and sea
And warm the gentle birds and bees
Brighten the fragrant rain kissed rose
That rests on brows that still repose
And speaks to the stars hidden above
Of warm nights and a summer of love

In between the greying
and the silvering
work and life
the sombre brooding of time
and the lull after the storms
poetry crept upon me
word by word
phrase by phrase
in a metaphor
letters from the heart
filling voids of loneliness
with welcome solitude

Blue skies call on me
Clouds float with a toss of their fluff
Ripples ripple in the lake
Birds pirouette to their own songs
The butterflies tango with the roses
The hibiscus sway
A million leaves sashay
The wind taps at my window
Seems to take my hand —
"Shall we…
Shall we dance?"

Somewhere tucked on a bookshelf is a book.
Dogeared, yellow pages with a hand written note.

In a box, lie trinkets — gifts, a pendant of Annie, a book mark.
Hand made cards, smudged with time.

An old doll almost intact,
Broken spectacles, pictures, a watch and postcards.

Some may call it clutter, junk —
And it’ll all go when I go.

But to me, they are the reason behind my smile, an odd tear.

More precious than collectibles or art —
They are pieces of my life,
My world and heart.

The copper bells glisten
Swaying in the sunshine
I pause as I listen
To the tinkling
Of the wind chimes

In the distance, they ring
A gentle melody -
I hear their songs
The unsaid words they sing

How sweet is their music
Sweet the joy they bring
Such is the wonder -
The magic of little things

A journey from a city to a small town,
And I thought... I would go down,
(I was nervous, not too many adventurous  bones,
Not everyone, after all, is Indiana Jones..)
A rickety-rackety propeller plane ride,
Tossed and hurled me from side to side.

Amidst jets that sniggered and scoffed,
The propeller plane, nonchalantly, took off.
The gall of the small contraption,
Of their majestic magnitude, just a fraction.
A take off with a war  cry,
A noisy leap  into the sky.
And though perhaps lagging in the race,
He chugged at his own pace…
He rocked and he plunged,
He plunged and he lunged,
He  shuddered and he swayed…
Rather unsteady all the way.
Bullied oft, by  clouds of turbulence,
That looked menacingly dark and intense.
But all the while, in tune,  in sync,
With the wind beneath his wings...
And though I thought he would nose dive,
We landed and we arrived!

Interesting it was to see him share space,
In the hangar, in the sky, while defining his own place.

Out-dated
Understated
Strange clothes and hair
That makes some stare
Or all snazzy
And jazzy
Dressed to stun
For love or for fun

Whoever we are
And whatever we are
Fashion freaks
Cool and chic
Couldn’t care less
Overdressed

The one thing
We can all wear
Is a smile

Because a smile -
Is always in style

I love the rain, but you dote on the sun
I sing for spring flowers and life-like trees
I gaze at the stars when the day is done
But you hide from the dusky canopy.
Your eyes are violet, but mine are not
Your hair is auburn, mine is like night
What I think each day are not your thoughts
Neither are we wrong, nor in the right.
Beneath the veneer, behind given names
I walk my walk and you do what you do
Despite the differences, we are the same
A heart beats in me as it does in you.
Together, let's revel in being alive -
Dance to the beats of the rhythm of life

I see it beaming through the windows
I see it slanting through the doors
It’s jiving on the ceiling
It's waltzing on the floor
It's smiling on the potted plants
On red flower beds and vines
It's quilting skies with gold
And lighting up wind chimes
A silken web is glistening -
The gossamer that's spun
I'll keep my share of sun shine
A pocket full of sun.

You fill in the blanks
Add adverbs to happy adjectives
Make days dance with similes of sun beams
And turn nights into metaphors of heaven
Words become songs
That beat to the rhythm of the heart
Muse and art merge
To become one -
And life becomes a verse

I woke up to a sky of grey
a hiding sun, a rainy day
clouds of hail - stormy what nots
rotund, dang and heavy drops

I said to them, be my poem.

Then the clouds of storm cleared
the golden orb appeared
a rainbow spilled color on the grass
the blossoms sang sweetly - unasked

I said to them, be my poem

To the poor man on the street
and the rag picker with bare feet
the cobbler and the fruit seller
the palmist and the fortune teller

I said to them, be my poem

To a new born and then, flesh on a pyre
the wind that whisks ashes from fire
to the fragrance of spring and the frost of cold
the stench of garbage and the scent of rose

I said to them, be my poem

I turned to love, anger and defeat
laughed with humour and cried with grief
traced the many fleeting expressions on a face
fluid movements and those without grace

I said to them, stay and be my poem

Then I paused, I looked within -inside
into my heart and into my mind
so I could meet myself and know
see and hear, feel and grow

So that one day, I too may become a poem

My hair is a tuft of clouds
Who knows
Maybe I could find an angel
Hidden there
Having fallen from the skies