In a drop of you, I lost an ocean of me.

BRING ON THE PASSION ,
BRING ON THE FASHION .

THE STAGE IS SET ONLY FOR AWHILE,
DRESS UP YOUR PASSION IN STYLE.

PASSION IS THE FUEL IN THE FIRE OF ACTION ,
TAKE EACH STEP WITH NO CONFUSION .

PASSION IS THE SPICE OF LIFE GIVING IT ALL THE FLAVOUR ,
REFINED , ULTRASOPHISTICATED , SASSY , GALLONT TO SAVOUR .

PASSION IS THE FUSION FOR TALENT,
MASTERY IS THE KEY TO PASSION'S EMBARKMENT .

HEAD ON WITH YOUR PASSION ,
WHILE PASSION REVEALS THE DRAPPER OR DREARY COMPASSION .

PASSION IS THE DECOCTION TO LIFE'S  MODIFICATION ,
PASSION IS THE "SHOW STOPPER" TO LIFE'S SATISFACTION !!

©MRUNALINI .D. NIMBALKAR

Summer days and heatwaves
Sweat pouring down our skin
Working hard no time to rest
From the time the day begins.

Bailing hay without a shade
Not a single cloud insight
Gathering all the barely corn
We work until the night.

we have a little hideaway
A place down in the vale
Its where we drink some scrumpy
Along with beer and ale.

We while away  an hour or more
Depending on how we feel
We rest and take it easy
No sound from the tractors wheel.

Now tomorrow is another day
Our work load it will keep
We may be striming hedge grows
Or we may be shearing sheep.

But we really are not bothered
We've been farmers far too long
We carry out our dutys
And sometimes with a song.

Our lives are hard but simple
We are living the country life
Away from the city and the fumes
From cars and such alike.

You see we have this hideaway
A little place down in the vale
So come along and join us
At the end of a farmers day

in a rather expensive restaurant
6 people are seated at a table next to us
drunk and bored
fat and old.

"hey blondie," the blue haired thrice divorce widow asks jen,
"how's that hamburger taste?"
blue hair pops an oyster from its grey shell as manny laughs
but his sagging eyelids can't see daylight.

I light a cheap cigar and blow smoke their way.
someone coughs and I smile.

they plan funeral arrangements.
discuss burial vs cremation.
manny wants to be cremated
while blue hair wants to be buried.
they argue.

and when a waitress comes to pick up 6 empty shells
left on the white china plate
I turn to them and smile again.
they are envious
because
we are young.

later: much, much later
in the crack in the ceiling of time
seated at a table
i pluck an oyster
and leave an empty shell.