Happiness is a bird
Flying in the sky - free
It's the dance of silver snowflakes
It's the cerulean blue of the sea
Happiness is generosity
Kindness, compassion too
It is a warm blanket of love -
Happiness is you.

I like the sun in winters
On cold cold days
The way it beams sunshine
So warmly my way
I soak in the light
As the day calls
Bright molten gold
That from the sky, falls

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

I coloured my world today
my hands smeared in pastels
canary yellows
ripe peaches and cardinal ochres
pink from a flamingo sunrise
a passionate cerise

Splashed
an array of feisty blues
a flamboyant turquoise
a topaz tango
a twinkling periwinkle

Streaked it with
beams of gold
contoured lilac smudges
lavender tipped edges
in custard pineapple floats

Splattered emeralds, toned pistachio
fern greens with swift finger strokes.

Tempered it with
muddy crusty earthy browns
rock coloured sandy mounds
reined in royal purple
the sensual blaze of a flaming sunset
the dark indigo of a gloaming sky
agate drops a few
a silver sliver of a crescent new

I coloured my world
with my eyes
my words
my fingers, hands
my hues
....just the way I wanted to

Sitting pretty on the window sill
Perfect and pleasing to the eye
Facing the rising sun
On a clear blue cloudless sky

Do you dream of open spaces?
Of stretching your arms free
Spreading like the mighty oak -
Or the lofty banyan tree?

Would you your leaves be swept by winds
Your breath carried by rain
Growing in the wilderness
With flowers wild, untamed?

And if I hold you close to me ...
Would I hear your soul cry?
Sitting pretty on a window sill
The perfect potted bonsai

At one time
I would scour the skies
looking for the moon, the stars
and some odd galaxy

But now, distant as I am
And wont to hide
I wonder if they scour the earth
And look for me