The wind takes command of your hair
Every strand submissive to its whim,
Despite its erratic behaviour
Your elegance does not leave.
You’re a work of art
To be hung in museums,
A song caught in every lips,
A blanket of snow in the early morning;
But you see yourself beyond that
‘Cause you’re a cautionary tale
Of what true beauty is.
Caught between loneliness and nature’s fury
I make my way through the dimly lit street;
Your memories linger behind me
like a balloon tied to a string,
Once let go, it’ll fly away;
But I won’t let go,
Hence, it’s destined to follow me.
First drop of rain, and I’m reminded of your touch
I miss your smile, bright as the summer’s sun;
Now here I am caught in the rain,
Amidst the raging wind;
I feel the cold wrap itself around me
Like a snake, coiled to suffocate me,
I feel the wind shoving me like I’m the enemy,
But more than that, more than the nature’s fury,
I feel the emptiness in my hand
where yours used to be.
Shhh!
Hush now, don’t say a word.
Let the silence fall and be the bridge,
To get over the distance between our lips.
Amidst the silence, trapped in our flushed faces,
Lies the truth, loud and clear,
But only if you listen;
Not from your ear.
It’s not as loud as the howling wind,
Nor is it the shrill found in children’s scream;
It’s as quiet as the shadows of you and me,
But you can hear its whisper
Inside you and me.
You can hear its whisper
If you listen where the heart is.
And in the midst of rain you held my hand
Leading the way in the middle of an empty street
Where street lights were our only company;
Soaked to our bones, yet cold we did not feel
Especially when our lips touched,
One fateful rainy evening.
I eye the bread,
Bred to steal, poor me.
They pour me with hate here,
But nobody hears my story.
This coarse course I’m on
Of course I would leave,
But wood and leaves won’t feed me
So I steal or else I’d end up still.
I got no franc, I’ll be frank;
No pound in my pockets
So, I pick pockets;
I’ve been cuffed before but I’m still coughing;
If I faint, it’s not ’cause I’m feinting.
All I have is air to give,
Should I have an heir to whom I can bequeath;
But they’d rather see me sore than see me soar;
Be on my heel than heal;
Be among the herd where I can’t be heard:
They won’t let me stand on my feet —
A feat, I want to achieve.
Oh, poor me!
Discovering new worlds ,
Traveling pages to pages;
Lost in million words.
When the pages of life turned
I feared the end.
I revelled in my current chapter
Hoping it would keep going;
But as words turned to sentence
And Sentence to paragraphs,
Periods were near scarce,
Until it was time —
Time To turn the page again;
Time to turn to new chapter
And keep on moving.
In my fear, I hesitated.
In my hesitation I stood still.
Time, however, left me behind;
Left me in the embrace of my fear;
Left me in its companionship
Until I was prepared to set myself free.
Until I was prepared to begin anew
the chapter I had been dreading;
The chapter that had come too soon.
Page turned.
Chapter started.
A bit too late
But forward, I’m moving.
I built a wall to keep out the world
“I’m an island”, myself I assured.
Freedom in my space I had sought;
Loneliness, a stranger, unwanted invader,
Had made himself comfortable,
Made it his home.
Until you came along and dug a hole,
Breached the wall and held me close;
You rearranged my four walls and put a door,
Few windows to see beyond what I had always known.
What was once my space had become my confinement
But since you’ve been here, I call it home,
With a welcome mat for the world.
A winter’s breeze gust;
Its ice cold grip on my hands
Until you hold mine
And let it be known
Your enemy was no one
but your reflection
Jacksombre 