Well where would I pertain to start...
         it wasn't at the beginning rather the end.
For we were going out, I put on my already
     ironed jeans, ironed jeans? yes I do that.

But moving on from my habits, we move on
to another of her perception of time.
                                      those fateful words of;

                            "I'll be ready in five minutes"

What isn't told, what hides beneath these words
                                                           are as follows!

1. Five minutes to find a pair of shoes!
           the minutes start again with each disposed off
as what is time without the right footwear...

2.  Five minutes to pick a dress to try it on,
if it doesn't match ^No1!!^ then as before
             five minutes graces her thoughts again.

3. Hair she has so much,
               but if it doesn't match the occasion,
I had to buy a break proof mirror, she said the
             brush slipped, but I have other thoughts.

4. Make up? why she is beautiful without this on.
                  But for some a cover from insecurities.
each layer having to match the above and so on.

Well, I had waited patiently?
                    but five minutes collected into infinity.
I cracked open a beer, had one or two.
               then fell asleep on the sofa even the dog
looked at the clock and muffled into slumber.

She came down, looking like I had seen her
on our first date. The time wasted wasn't at all,
those moments now melted away. She has no
construct of time, but when I see her like this,
it doesn't matter how much time she takes.

This summer air carrying sweet perfumes,
Of the youths and lasses,
Coming off the elaborate costumes,
Of new fashion's masses.

The fair views are waiting to be captured,
Artist minds enraptured,
Into the bright spring  each camera zooms,
With transparent glasses.

All this curious and lovely asking,
A romantic setting,
Leading to melancholic, soothing glooms,
Who’re put in strange classes.

One glance was stretched into a reverie,
With bliss in memory,
Like sunbeams through thin curtains in dark rooms,
And slowly it passes.

Here summery embroidery's read,
Mâhî's line is his thread,
And his imagination is what blooms,
Pages are canvases.

Tossing and turning
All night long
Falling asleep
Then waking up
Couldn’t sleep at all
My mind wouldn’t shut off
2am and still awake
Can I just go to sleep
For heavens sake
Left the bed
Came out to the comfy chair
Finally felt relaxed
When binx(my cat)
Curled up with me
Purring so loud, on my lap
Fell asleep for a little
In my comfy chair
Moved back to the bedroom
Around 4:30 am
Finally sleeping
Without a care

Why wouldn’t my mind shut off
Why couldn’t I relax
Hoping tonight
Won’t be a repeat
Like the last....

The clouds, then the years
drag through my hair
like a plow traveling through
this sandy gray soil of mine

There are many theories of time
like words that can pass
into the mouth of a Mason jar
and stay there forever, and last
like a message at sea floating far

How is it there are trails
you cannot follow for being
so **** dog tired, something
now, and not was, returned
from so many journeys

I have not set my foot down
in this nest of copperheads
to break the eggs or be bitten,
this is simply where I wanted
to be struck and born.

Paper scenery's hang
                             in the background,
          reproductions brought to life.
The sun casting shadows,
                        before bulbs expire.
But when the wind falls,
                  plugs pulled, the set vacant.

The red hibiscus bloom and beside them I see
The growing bark of the amaltas tree
That's slowly inching towards the sky
Eager to branch as time goes by.
Soon, it'll shadow the hibiscus and the grass
With its arms on the morrow, and roots in the past
And birds will gather on its golden boughs
To nest and sing their songs of now.