Standing alone in the courtyard, there she stands swaying in the humid breeze, a yard in the open she is a humble to fragrant Plumeria trees. Oh how I loved the wind before he took you from me, tell me it was all false and stay awhile is my only plea.
You did a swirl and you twirled in white and yellow, only to turn me into a sad old fellow!

Well I’ve waited for twenty years my love, clinging to your hopeless memory, of how there was a day that came where you couldn’t remember me.

In a dream I was walking, all alone.
A flower; I saw-

                             off in the distance..

it was all alone, like me.

Into this world
of ancient earthen homes
heated by fragrant native wood
comes gentle and silent snow.

Within the delicate fibers
of this newly formed heart
one tapestry is being woven.

Its indeterminate colors
barely visible, shimmer.

Longing, and loving
one presence, dancing closely
finding balance and resolution
in this sound, in this knowing
in shraddha.

Beckon the swallows sweetly,
With a voice filled with longings
To the heavens of scented Spring.

So sweet the smell
I cannot tell.

Is it a lily or
is it the girl
next door…