Knit that sweater for me, please,
That sweet humming with its peaceful catch
Your hands and their darkening crease,
A mere cloth of your hardwork
To stay with me.

When it wraps around me
On a chilly day
I'll feel your love
Your warm embrace.

Under the sunlight
I'll dream of the rows,
Silly reasons to fight,
But even if for a day, I was your foe,
Your love would cook for me,
Knead the chapati dough

Make me that beautiful sweater
On my 90th Christmas when you're above
I'll wear your colours, my dear mother,
Which will remind me.of your undying love.

I want to write a love poem
The best the world has ever seen
About two shattered people
Fitting together at their broken seems

I want to write a love poem
That no one can forget
About two lonely people
That where a perfect fit

I want to write a love poem
That transcends past the stars
About two cosmic bodies
That's not imprisoned behind broken bars

I want to write a love poem
So great no one has ever known
Of two tattered spirits
That clung to each other and the love they shown

I want to write a love poem
That can survive any storm
About two people with icicle hearts
That true love burned bright and warmed

I want to write a love poem
But alas that I can not do
For I have never tasted love
So I have not a single clue

I know my place...
Is between the rocks
And the long delay.
Is between your heart
And your smiley eyes.
I know we missed the path,
I lost the signs...
I know my place is
Between a silence and a rest
Your ghost will spit on my face
The air will save me from faint.

On a shore where the waves embrace the sand
Lies the hug land.
“No words, please, we only hug and kiss”
is all you will find,
speaking there is only with mind!
They were not late
To know words only complicate,
Make a mess
Of what the heart says.
Rotten clichéd stale
They more often fail
To make the desired sense,
More potent is silence.
Lover, sister, brother
Each hugs the other
In this faraway retreat,
They hug anyone they meet.

He scoops sands in baskets

then balancing neatly on the shoulder
carries to where needed
through bone breaking hours.

Upon his footprints is there a name
or a home
where he goes back for the night
lands featherlight kiss on a woman
awakes her sleepy bones with her hands
forgetting his days sinking in the sands.

Within the four walls
Below a roof
Busy with play of words
The poet is aloof.

The sky is breaking low
Pitter patter rain
Capture they must the flow
Of drizzles soothing pain.

Outside on a stretch of green
Drenched to the bone
A man with cracking skin
Hoeing from morn.

The toiler is tasked to ****
Paid by the hour
Must earn the precious quid
Whatever the shower.

The poet is lost in the toil
To grow his rhyme in shower
The **** works fast the soil
Growing hope by the hour.