The Figure and Her

Like a perfect morning Spring breeze,
Like a rare galactic celestial star,
Like an iron heart beating for a lost twin,
Mesmerising momentarily in greater depth,
At a figure, she paints from the unknown,
A mixture of shadows, a masterpiece, a landscape,
For her to soar, like a bird,
For her to cherish, like a treasure,
For what life brings her, like this figure,
And so, it starts to dance to her smiles,
Stargazing at her beating heart that twinkles afar,
And in turn, she snows nearby landing on its cheeks,
Hearing its whispers as she silences the world,
For seven hours straight, the figure is her all,
For many more at night, she is its delicate soul,
Without her, the figure is emotionless,
The son of a concerned mother,
The brother of a proud sister,
The aging father of a little girl,
To it, she becomes the definition of home,
A place to hold onto and to always return,
A shelter to its heart, a constellation to its mind,
An ongoing novella depicting the merging of souls,
Linguistically phenomenal as both start to realise,
A preface of dubbed barriers to never lose a translation,
A chapter of tones to reach complete perception,
And yet, a different chapter consumes all emotions,
Like a breeze that comes and goes,
Like a shooting star nowhere to be found,
Like a heart that switches to a highborn,
The plot thickens and the twist befalls,
A heavenly meeting was decreed for a resolution,
Three decades holding onto nomadic tents,
Leaving few years thinking to never come back,
And yet, this figure, out of nowhere comes back,
Part of the desert, earthly merged for eternity,
For what reasoning this soul comprehends
Is beyond the logical laws of a galactic universe,
The figure and her are just a story of a great return.

Lavender

Yes, lavender – that was the word,
The search has ended and hope has
Been reached for everyone who
Fancies purple and all its vibrant
Distinct shades – I adore lilac for
No particular reason except organs
Evolved to hunt it down if it ever
Appeared amongst a painted
Landscape – an obsession where
Fashion has stolen lilac for its own
Antiquity to wrap around my soul,
And today, I sit in a warm tea shop,
Vibrant music distinctively amusing
The soul to ask the girl for some
Tea that nakedly bares lavender.

Greed

There was once a businessman,
Corrupted beyond logical reason,
He would count the stars at night,
And before sunrise – before any
Witnesses – he would take one,
Because, to him, they were not
Very efficient on the dark sky,
He would rather take them for
Their energy and sell them for
Profit so that by the end of the
Year three hundred and sixty
Five stars were put in the safe
In one of his banks that nobody
Knew, and one night, there was
A little girl who could not sleep,
While the moon snored aloud,
But her eyes were attracted
Towards those diminishing
Stars nobody ever befriended,
Except her where she and
Twinkle talked for the entire
Night, but just before the
Sun showed itself, the man
Put Twinkle in his big bag,
His greed blinded him to see
The poor little girl crying so
Innocently asking for help,
Here and there, shouting at
Other stars to pull the bag
Away from that greedy man,
But nobody listened, so she
Decided to follow this wicked
Man back to where he locked
Twinkle, but what she saw was not
Only Twinkle but also the rest of
The stolen stars, millions and
Millions of them trapped in the
Safe, and so she decided to open it,
Break it, destroy it entirely, and
When she did the stars floated
Freely towards their home, but the
Businessman shouted at the little
Angry girl: “you have to pay for the
Loss of revenue!” but the girl
Shouted back: “they don’t belong
Here,” the evil greedy man said:
“I counted them all night, I labelled
Them, I made them efficient, and
Now, they’re gone because of you,
Didn’t you know that I owned them?”
The girl said calmly: “they were
Never for sale in the first place.”

Captured Moments

A familiar face and a familiar body,
And another, a friend with another,
A moment captured like his camera,
Like at the park or this sunny arch,
Another moment of beautiful breeze,
Awaiting for the yearned reunion,
My eyes sitting on a flight of stairs,
And I blink while he produced a portfolio,
The one with another for a gallery,
And I blink with the rushing of the river,
Background noises and pigeon visits,
The dog of the homeless almost lost,
The dance of the seagulls up above,
Awaiting for the yearned reunion,
And I blink at the lady with the violin,
Solo on the cobblestones near the arch,
Random kid running away from her father,
Her contagious smile spreads all around,
And my buddy arrives followed by the others,
Many moments captured with a blink of an eye.