Just a passenger on the long journey

The train stopped at the station

All drowsy yet restless

Closed eyes wondered if this journey would ever reach its destination.

Among the tens of feet stepping onto the train

Did I feel a footing like a gush of wind

that made me fly without wings.

She handed me the golden ticket

And light came in despite the surrounding snowy thicket

Her smile so enchanting

For even the stars above me wondered

Whose glitter shines so bright, blinding all eyes

And the sweet embrace like of the winter blankets

That welcome you into the beautiful spring

Nectarous and pleasant

The tepid glow of our entwining fingers

Sheltered me from the worst tempest.

Stayed with me for days that I had hoped to be decades until

Sound asleep and rid was I from restless nightmares finally

But the chilling frost creeping up my fingers

Did push my eyes open, blurry

Only to see her standing by the door

Her hair flowing with the cool breeze

As she steps out into white taking away the warmth I ever lived for

And never to be seen again

Just like a passenger on a long journey.

The fisherman’s cry

She ran like a little girl to the shore

Her floral skirt flowing with the rhythm of the breeze

Fingertips gently tracing the trails on her neck

Left by the absence of her black pearl necklace.

Just like he had promised as he sailed into the horizon with her black pearls

She wished for her lover to hook the beads when he’d return

With tales untold of wailing winds and mystery mermen

Or a pair of dancers for her ears, she wouldn’t mind.

She sat on the sand, sea washing her feet

Looking out for the return of the crescent shaped boat

The setting sun as big as her bindi, kissing her skin oh so soft

The salt of the sea tickling her tongue.

Some feet away, the waves wash in a black pearl necklace

Silently screeching, her lover’s cries

When she breathes his return

And he’s embraced by the curse of the sea.

The Little things of the Everyday Evening

Peering through the window of my bubble,

I wonder

The things that are of the everyday evening,

Cars zooming in and out, shining red and yellow,

Like infinite and fierce shooting stars of the faraway sky.

Buildings growing tall,

Matching the wild and untamed grass of green

That springs in the exiled corners of the central park.

Although luxuriant they flourish,

They aren’t sights like that of green grass

Tingling senses of eyes and feet.

Waddling through this dry turf of grey,

Are ants that carry bags of laptop,

Seeking the sweet embrace of rest and refuge

After long hours of seeking bread.

They strut into bubbles like mine,

That lights up and out

Like the twinkling of distant and reachable stars.

Is this the only beauty that I was promised,

By this world unlike the others

I wonder, I wonder,

Do I have to venture into the untouched lands of solitude,

for what I seek

I wonder, I wonder,

Peering through the window of my bubble

I wonder.