Who do you burn for ?

Image Courtesy : Scott Sistek

The clouds look like mountains in the sky today :

and the sun shies away as the dawn approaches.

Do you feel the warmth of the sun ?

Do you feel the embrace of its rays,

bouncing in ecstasy upon your skin ?

Why does it burn ?

For you and for me.

Tell me love, who do you burn for ?

Does your soul light the way

for others ?

Does it burn to consume your age

while memories like thick smoke spreads ?

Who do you burn for , love ?

Who do you burn for ?

She's a mousy mouCe
as white a-as a houCe
silver sparkly whisker
makes u wanna frisk her
swishing her pink long tail
she gives them all a fail.

They set them up a trap
nice cheese rolled up a wrap
Sniffing she does come, now:
too quick, too smart, and how ?
Grabs the food, sticks her tongue
and makes them feel like a lump of dung

White Dove

Mindful wastage of time, it is:

this tiring passage of breaths-

now in , now out.

~

A deep gorge lies in wait,

for your dainty feet may bless it:

and lift this dreariness that blankets my soul.

~

Sweet pain it is, that sears my heart,

plunging into my soul, your smile

hangs tantalizingly in my memory.

~

Eyes, now dreary, droop : the mind

escapes to dash across the meadows, until

it somehow rests upon your gaze.

~

Like the swaying dandelions,

my heart plays with its beats:

now slow, now fast, now slow, now fast.

~

The sweet breeze that strikes

the closed eyelids of my soul:

does douse the fire within it.

~

Like a stray feather, plucked

off a dove by the wind, you make me fly

freely, until upon your brow I rest

~

and when you close your eyes,

this feather, which is me

rolls gently down your face: and falls

~

like petals on the altars of God,

I lie in peace, smiling silently

besides the soft toes of you, my angel.

~

I wait for you to wake,

for I can't bear not seeing you:and there

you smile coyly in your sleep like a content child.

~

When you wake with the sun, 

you give flight to the birds,

to which my heart is akin.

~

The chirping of the hurried birds,

is silenced as soon as your lips part

to produce unheard symphonies.

~

The days are dreary, they repeat

like mindless parroting of hollow words:

but your presence : forever new.

~

White dove:

go fly. I am not caging you

so I can soothe my soul looking at you.

Letting you go is the best I can do.

~