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.

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My Forever Angel

When the heart races for you,
The drumming sounds of life
Brings joyous smiles even when
It dwells at the edges of the world,
And even if it digs deep within
Its quaking earth or soars over
Volcanic mountains, my Angel,
Your warming smile births
Childhood whispers with dreams
So vast such that one day, mom,
You may live so proud of me.

Adventures of a Kid

Listen you boy, don’t you wonder around!
Her chair rocked forwards and backwards,
And I winked at her little fat Miss Orange,
A naughty blind little cat that I used to mop
The floor and sometimes the windows, too,
But all of this is gone for I will embark on a
Journey where I will find a form of magic,
Something to bring my mom back to me,
I once read in a dusty book about a forest
That is not far from here, it must be here –
Oh you don’t know how much I miss her,
She was taken away when I was just a kid,
They sent her to marry some son of royal
Blood, and I was to live under the ceiling
Of my mentally demented wicked aunt,
No cousins, no husband, no pets but a cat,
And a bit of dust on the table and on the
Wooden floor, and on the windows and
On the chairs, on the boots, on the ceiling,
On the beds and all around this old house,
Clean the dust! Clean the dust! All I do is
Clean the dust, and so I will embark on a
Journey where I will find a form of magic,
The book mentioned a stone or two that
Can grant any person their wish, a bird or
Two with an orange feather that can bring
Two persons back together, and a leaf or
Two that will forever send a person away,
And I want all three of them: a stone, a
Feather, and a leaf, to give my mother
The stone, to bring me and her together,
And keep my revolting aunt forever away.