you were so very pretty
the first time i saw you
it was spring
and you were a dream
soft and longing
every smile
blossomed with fragile hope

then the chill in the air gave way to
warm summer breezes in june
and you became more real  
no longer shifting in and out of existence
more solid
more beautiful
i wanted to plant flowers
along the paths you took
so you could only walk on
a lovely road from now on

when june turns to july
and july melts into august
when the leaves fall in september
i'll still want to clear a way for you
you won't be a dream anymore
you won't be a hazy existence
with every step you take
you'll leave your footsteps
singing in the autumn leaves
it will be less painful, then

\ \

the clouds
are dancing
beside the moonlight,

i can smell
the fragrance
of the sea breeze,

the wind blows
in sweetest rhythm
of how our hearts
beat when we're together,

the leaves sway
like we hold
each other's hands,

lying in the sand,
i realized,
we never grow up,
we're always
too young
to fall in love

I complicated your life
with these feelings,
and it's hard to accept
of you being untroubled
with my absence.

I was finding possible ways
to fix every broken word,
but every broken road
lead to me to a conclusion:
love is a luxury
we just can't afford,

You're still beautiful,
beneath the moonlight,
drawn by the clouds,
and I can't be jealous of
seeing you with him,
holding you closer
than I was with you before.

Farewell to the woman
I still love,
we’re perfect
until we’re not.

Farewell to the woman
who held my heart,
we’re meant to be together
only to be apart.

Farewell to the woman
I built the future with,
just to wake up one day
to be a part of once past.

Farewell to the woman
I still love,
our different priorities
left only an illusion of us.

Farewell to the woman,
my best friend,
our eyes met
only to be strangers again.

Farewell to the woman
of my memorable years,
our sweetest smiles
suddenly turned into tears.

Farewell to the woman
I still love,
we’re forever
until we’re not.

From the framed picture hung on the wall
Two faces look nobly down
The faces of my grandma and grandpa
Taking me to the times gone by

Smiling at their wavering progeny,
They retell the saga of their blissful life
A life of selfless share and care
Inspiring generations in their travail

Curling back to times and climes primeval
I hear the sound of their footfalls aloud
In a humble dwelling, joyfully they lived
As children of the soil with hands full of toil

They worked together from dawn to dusk
Greeting every new dawn with fresher zeal
Their hearts were securely fastened in love
And had needs minimum and complaints nil

Two fountains that sprang from sources different
Had merged together before their early teens
Through wedlock they had been customarily bound
At a time when they hardly knew what it meant

Had played together as buddies for long
Until instinct made them man and wife
When fledglings were hatched in their little nest
They worked together never knowing rest

Hit by adversities hard, at times they sank very low
But with resilience, bounced back
And frugally saved every nickel and dime
To meet the needs of their growing household

They tottered together in the evening of their life
Serving as prop to each other when about to fall
In their twilight years, ambling the corridors of memory
They reminisced sweetly the joyful events of life

Now they lie together in the same churchyard
Two streams that evenly and tranquilly ran side by side
Never once been shattered on the rocks and shoals of life
Making one wonder if their life is History or Fable

In the swelling magnitude of our life
Though trivial was their share
Yet they stay as beacons of light
Leaving a trail of light to blaze our paths

Here I can think
without hindrance or bother,
amid towering pines and
the cowering bramble and
the river that rifts the soil
into pleasant little hillocks,
made home for the wild
and the earthly and the pure.
Here I am not harried by the
howling song of man,
no motorcades of lunacy
can touch my private ear,
traded for the placid, honest
sounds of earth (a song
that can't be echoed).
Here I'm left to ponder
or not ponder, just the same,
the truth of my soul or
the meaning of my given name.
Here I have not lost myself,
though should I do just that,
if I follow the bends of the river,
the road that isn't crowded,
I'll be brought back to nothing
but peace.