///

Either if that land comes to me
or if I go to near the moon
rather, if I count the distance between the heaven and the hell
whatever you see or say
but I see and say there is a space

How long or thick I don’t know, but there is a space
where there is a vehicle or wind even empty
and the spaces, we run through air, land or the sea
if there exists any light or dark,
even I go through the time on the light speed
there I have seen a long space

Even between you and me
a little or big space
the shadow,
when I close to you
it has grown compact and even sometimes turned to dark
I can't see you
rather I see there is a space between you and me

And the star to star
sun to other stars
earth and the moon
and the moon and me
where there is a you there is at least a little space
even it dark or light
neither true nor false
either life or death
there is a space between you and me
your road to my road
your home to my home
at least a river, ocean or a wall that has created a space
your heart to my heart
your soul to my soul
there is a little space either light or dark
my love, that grew the difference between you and me
///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

I love the way it feels
To be barefooted
In the park,
The normally unexposed
Flesh of my feet
Brushing the blades of
Slightly browned grass
And dirt.

I hear the chirping
Of insect correspondence,
Croaking like frogs
In loud crescendos.
The lush green leaves
On the trees with fat wooden trunks,
They glow yellow under the
Fluorescent night lamps.
The leaves crinkle and crackle,
Shimmy in the wind,
Creating a summer staccato
Against the sounds
Emerging from those
Ever-chattering crickets.

A light breeze kisses my skin,
Twisting itself around
The darkness,
Morphing into a double helix,
DNA of the
breath
Of
Fresh air,
The summer
Heat
Briefly catching
A
Cold.

Rolling over with desire
Lay neath the fuchsia petals

Morning sun sets ablaze
Your cinnamon hair let down

He wonders how ? that ,
That perfect porcelain face caged  him ?
When he has painted it

The fragrance he can't sense
Becomes his captor .

He stroked those almond eyes
With the dark of the night

She lay in his picture , his muse
Like aphrodite herself came alive on his canvas

Wishing he could just lay there
He curses saying ....
He's just an artist and he'll find another muse !

I lost my inner poet
apparently she was last seen
just staring idly into space

She was sitting with her notebook,
gently pondering
in a quiet, tucked away place

I could only see the back of her
she wouldn't turn around
I so wanted to see her face

She was always so quiet
and very often reflective
working at her own steady pace

Not only am I left without poetry
I am also lost for words
she may have taken them all
along with my grace

The search will continue
maybe until the end of my days
as I fear she's left no trace

His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.

Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the

Construction site.
I wanna work like this when
I grow up, he says in

Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach

And kneel down in front of
Him. So you want a job,
Buddy? I ask him with a

Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the

Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a

Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. Well, I'll see you in a
Few years, I say with another

Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,

But you can start with this
And get some practice. I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max

Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,

Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a

Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading

Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.

Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.

how quiet the life is..
how noisy it sounds in my head.

They say, "good things come if you wait."
I've fallen in love six, seven, eight,
but somehow I find you worth holding the door for
God laughs at my girlish delusions
love is a trap door.