I watch her.

I watch her,
as the night drapes over her window,
as the stars tangle in her hair,

I watch her,
as the chiseled imperfection
of the moon stirs her inky musings,

I watch her ,
in the uncertain glow of the dying candle,
in the torrent of tattered thoughts,

I watch her,
watching me through the silver-smeared glass,
through the pits of colourless brown,


                                      I watch her as                           
                                   ­            she slowly traces the silence,
                                                        ­           silencing the traces of him.

Withered and within
a dying breath
and yarns of endless ephemerae,
like thunder, like lightning,
igniting ages of delusion;
A fear.

Astral and adrift,
I  bloom in adventures,
yet amble in ink of hundred hues,
like a bubble, like a feather,
lazing in prismatic pastels;
A vagabond.

Etched and enshrouded  ,
a fiery trail of my footprints
I have yet to reach,
like a fantasy, like a nightmare,
calling, in dusk-soaked whispers;
A journey.

A life ahead.

the yellow viral elephant
is not the topic of these lines

I’d rather speak of precious things
we almost have forgotten
over the last few months

the sight of crystal mountain lakes
under blue summer skies

your lover’s eyes looking at you
mirroring shared desires

how refugees were lucky to escape
and build a new home elsewhere

how children with unbridled joy
learn how to use their favorite toy

the oceans undulating waves
always new shapes for our wondering eyes

how the new day reverberates
with the melodious song of birds

our world has beauty bountiful
just look at it