She counts her shells

her feet sand ribbed
her toes ricely white
her hair windy vagabond
her eyes low tide sea.

She gives me back my years.

Through tears
I count eternity.

There're endless ways to write
give vent to a joy or to pain
heavy stuff or childly light
sunshine or broken sky's rain.

It depends on the day the mood
good times or bad on the way
shapes the words your attitude
color them the way you want to say.

Endless are the ways to fill the page
rhythm and structure and rhyme
clear as daylight or a maze
depends how you're treated by the time.

You choose from the collage endless
words that may sadden entertain
when broken you may choose to show a face
that by lighting smiles lessens your pain.

In schooldays my aim was terribly perfect
add to that an attitude unfair
a soft teacher was an easy found target
not one bald head was allowed to be spared.

The moment the poor man turned to blackboard
his baldness shined as a gaming site
the sleeping devil woke up and deep roared
dispatched were chalks on windborne flight.

Only a few did land on wrong place
but found mostly their rightful targets
and bore no qualm the thrower's face
when cheered by the fellow classmates.

As the victim turned with ire's full steam
nursing stings that came with good force
we in the gang were such an honest team
never revealed it came from what source.

It went on smooth till luck failed one day
has to end all games one once starts
a traitor midst us the secret gave away
memory of the thrashing badly hurts.

Something I would tell you son
that's only known to me
a burden it is knowing alone
it's time I share with thee.

Shocking was what he revealed to me
tragic too was the tale
of a woman's loss of dignity
her passing thru fire of hell.

Her I have held in high esteem
her sanctity locked in trust
never knew she was a sad victim
of a man's monstrous lust.

My father felt it would only be fair
it needed him just to be brave
with son the secret he must share
not carry alone to the grave.

I hold it now that grave secret
father left his job was done
burdened with a heavy weight
that I can't share with son.

The woman she is still alive
knocking on ninety's door
her skin a shade of dried beehive
she remembers not anymore.

When the day is done
the sunburned moon
breaks down on the lonely river.

Glistening in her tears
the river carries her away to the sea.

beyond the lighted city
past the festive crowd
beneath the melancholic halogen
outside the shut doors and windows
upon a lane paved with garbage
amid an air stenched with *****
between two wooden wheels
head resting on holed rexine
arms limply down from heaven
feet embracing the dirt
sleeps another night
from the ashes of day
dreaming just enough
to muscle
another
morn.

By the time we reached the final act
our dialogues turned to whispers
warmed us the pledge to the silent pact
we would be rehearsing under the stars

dew would damp the players' cloth
all but the two were gone
who were tied by the burning oath
must shape their roles to perfection

owls hooted in the night's shadow
world slept behind shut door
we were numbed to the time's flow
by the sounds of claps encore

one the alien had blood thick green
that only the ****** revealed
when unbeknownst was cut his skin
by the other soon to be killed

that time now ***** to yellowed page
long back fate set him free
my skin is now bold in age
he's evergreen in memory.