There is a gift for you
It is now in your life
It wasn’t before, when you knew nothing about it
And even now that you know, the unknown remains inside
You want to open it! Solve the mystery

But the packing is so beautiful,
What if that’s my gift?
A nice packing. It could be.
After all, that is what incited my interest
My curiosity
But I want to know
Is there something more?
I mean, the packing is nice
But maybe the gift is special
What if it is not? You know, few things in life are truly interesting
But what if…

You can’t know if you don’t open it
Open it, open it!

But the packing…
What if I ruin it?
Oh well, I’ve got to try
It was wrapped with so much care
It has to be nice
But I will take a photo, just in case
It will be the memory I can save
If everything goes wrong

If everything goes wrong?
At least you got the moment
Now open your gift! See what you were given
There should be a reason
For it to have been hidden

I will do it slowly
Even if I feel like my fingers can’t wait
So much curiosity!
I almost can’t hold myself
But I have to keep calm
What is the point
Of unwrapping it too fast?
Is pleasing my curiosity
Everything I want?
Will the gift be
Anything I want?

First movement.
The thoughts go
Get confused
Mess around
What can it be?
Second movement.
All together
Waiting for it
Can you see?
Third movement

Done

I was pulled from the comfort
of sleep and warmth by my
father's voice from the floor
below. "Double-time girl,
we're going to be late!"
I hurried down the stairs
of our home to slip into
winter boots and zip up
my puffy winter coat.

In the garage, my dad was
already in his gray van.
I opened the passenger door,
climbed up over the rusted
rims and plopped into the
seat next to him. The cold
raced to reach my body. I
buried my bare hands in my
sleeves and prayed my wet hair
wouldn't freeze into icicles. I
could feel the stitches of the
leather pressing through my jeans.
Even they were cold.

My father's figure sat hunched in
the seat next to me. He gripped
the steering wheel with black
gloves. Staring forward,
he considered big things:
chemical structs and his
wife's lingering debt.

A familiar melody began to
waft out of the radio. Oops.
That meant that I had made
us  late to school...again.
At 7:35 each morning
Garrison Keillor's voice
spoke on something my
parent's called the Writer's
Almanac. I listened with
fascination to his voice,
which seemed to promise
each listener an afternoon
backstroke through the
milky way and the strength
to land, with grace, on Earth's
hard ground.

Out my window,
I watched the early-morning
breadwinners rushing to buy
their fuel: gasoline
and coffee. I wondered
if I could ever be good
enough, worth enough to be
mentioned by Keillor.
What could I do? What
would make me special?
Should I write poetry?

The episode came to a
well-known, comfortable
close: "Be well, do good
work, and keep in touch."
I hoped to do just that.

My dad's sudden voice
brought me back to his
shaky van. "****."
He too had been
wondering.

By the parking lot you sit
just behind the village stores
tall, white fence box
flaking paint.

Sun streams in between slats
casting lines across the dirt floor
stopping a few inches in
dark mystery.

Bending down to peer inside
slipping fingers and hands to reach
searching by touch, EW
crawling bug

Once I climbed up the side of one
but there was just a big metal box
I dropped down inside
locked doors.

Some I could climb, and some not
what was being hidden inside the shed?
Eager and curious for adventure, knowledge.
Never enough.

I tend to mix up do’s and don’ts
Not out of recklessness
Malice or even stupidity
It’s more a second nature
To walk into precarious situations
Ignoring well-meant advice
Setting off alarms
And wreak havoc
And instigate confusion
And set of ***** traps
To see what might happen
And I am well aware
That curiosity killed the cat
But as long as I’m still standing
I’ll do what I shouldn’t
Because life’s for the living
And living is all about mucking about
Without do’s and don’ts
And with enough curiosity
To make a grown man cheer

Do you remember
your red Chevy Cavalier?
a small sweet apple
lying on the ground covered in green
and I would tunnel inside
with vast curiosity
about where we were going
mostly about who you were
how you were
so free.

Laughing through cigarette smoke
I inhaled them both.
Outside was a cat-daddy
that you didn’t believe existed
until you saw the lithe figure
dressed in blue
for yourself.
A smile smashed the window
and your hands tore open the door
above feet carrying you out.
I sat in the red Chevy Cavalier
wondering at all your ways.

Oh where did I go?
"What a shame!"
They'd all say as I'd sit
Waving my white flag
"I hope you feel better!"
One always blurts out
With eyes of pity and curiosity
Creeping over my being
What a terribly awful gesture
You see I too hope I'll feel better
Oh but please tell me
How can one do so
When all that surrounds are onlookers

Here or there,
somewhere along in the way of it's thinking,
somewhere at the back of mind,
the mind knows there is always a curiosity.

An anxiousness to know more
A curious mind stays restless,
then an extra bit of effort is made to know more in detail about all that is happening.

Here or there,
somewhere along in the way of it's thinking,
somewhere at the back of mind,
the mind knows there is always an influence of something in life.

Particularly something in particular
This influence can also be found in the line of action that needs to be taken
Quite necessarily when the line of action is taken, then the role of influence can prominently be seen.

Here or there,
somewhere along in the way of it's thinking,
somewhere at the back of mind,
the mind knows a few things are always going to remain in store.

Some among these few things include the following,
bonding, mutual trust, understanding and also forgiveness.

Bonding comes naturally.
As we grow, we also realize the importance of bonding along with time.
Trust comes after experiencing odds and difficulties in life.
Forgiveness is for those, who believe that things can change for better,
if trust and faith are put together.

Here or there,
somewhere along in the way of it's thinking,
somewhere at the back of mind,
the mind knows there is always a hope for a better tomorrow.

When the everyday news is filled with bloodshed, violence and killings,
somewhere at the back of mind, the mind knows,
tomorrow will be better,
definitely much better than all what is going on as of now in the present.

So never give up in life
Work towards what you have set up as your goal,
while doing so always hope for a better tomorrow.

I'm sorry for mumbling
so often I'm nervous
I've been told too many
times to hush
or to be quiet
if I ever heard it from you
I'd probably fall silent
for many reasons actually
you're someone who truly
f a s c i n a t e s   me..
I'd hate to bore someone
who's just so intriguing

there's a part of me that keeps
checking in to see how
your life is going. I can't shield
my curiosity from the pain
when I see that you have replaced
me in each pose
every sunset
and a single smile that
was not catapulted at me.