Draped in all six yards she stood in a cafe, it’s a timeworn cliche, but I simply want to say: She wears her wrinkles like an ocean wears its wave, she raised me like a lioness stronger than the brave. Taught me to overwater the plants and said giving is better than getting, live like there’s nothing worth regretting. What breaks us doesn’t stand a chance, she’ll protect and pray to be saved from even a glance. She can tell from the sound of your voice miles away, when your world revolves into folds of grey. It’s not only the one that I call Maa, it’s the force that build the life I saw. I never write poems about her ‘why’ they ask, she fills my heart in full not through the words I can make last. ❤️
Skies in perpendicular angles, speak of days that have my heart in entangles.
With beauties that shine with whites flowers and golden hair, the heart of gold he will not care.
Blue, yellow, orange and black, he wasn’t looking to fall for love it was what I lacked.
Shadows go up against all ninety degrees, my heart shivers in the hot summer breeze.
I made paper boats as a child at the age of five, I threw myself into a pond to save it and didn’t know how to dive. Creased and soiled by the muddy lanes, taught me lessons of no pain no gain. You’ve been flying paper kites while I’ve been sailing paper boats, you coloured the skies while I watered everything I wrote. We both played and swayed by the winds, stirring thoughts of sweetness and sadness in our destined minds. It was on dry lands, that fate depended on the lines of our hands.Boats must be launched and kites must be flown, how long will you not sail for the fear of unknown? Up the stream and high in the sky, colourful paper make your eyes cry! It isn’t how big your paper origami sails or how high it flew, it’s how beautiful it looks even when it wrestles the muddy waters and the colour of survival on the skies it drew! Can you see the bridge I made from the mud to the sky, it’s getting difficult to keep my paper boat dry!
When the road is a winding mess, the raindrops feel colossal no less, when the sun don’t shine and you’re waiting on the stars to align. You’d rather be inside the covers on your bed, refusing to listen to the voices in your head, getting off the door to the metro you dread. Why me? Why do you will feel like the confused hippo?
Then the world feels right again and like the friendly lion you will forget the bad rain, you will feel like a happy minion being you, ask yourself why me, then too?