The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,

This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.

They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.

They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.

My outstretched arms mimicking the limbs of maple trees
That nearly swallow me
In their abundantly evident presence
Their stoic past remains etched in their bark vividly prevalent
Their branches reaching in vain attempting to harness the slate gray sky
A sky not effected by the plight of men and trees, desperate as we tear and pry
Yearning to grasp enough of the intangible frays of clouds drifting
Praying to uproot ourselves into a place more uplifting
These wanting limbs will remain wanting, for decades to come
Beckoning aid from the moon and sun
As stars watch from afar with no emotional attachment to show
Everyday the limbs strain and grow
Closing the distance, progress earned from weathering the storms
Until they can reach no more
Falling from the sky's grace
Roots anchoring them to a life destined for solemn existence stationary from rise through death and all
I stop reaching not waiting on the sky fall
Digging the ground uprooting myself with hands gnawing at the earth liberating a trapped dream
I stopped reaching for the sky because it wouldn't set me free...

Oh it's just the little things
the way she hummed
and the way he sings
the warm tea
that tickles my nose
the wet dog tongue
that tickles my toes
that look you throw across the hall
that gut wrenching feeling
when you fall
the warm breeze
that envelops the night
the millions of stars
that twinkle bright
the moment at the top of a slide
the feeling that follows
a really good cry
the kind of laughter
that makes you hurt
the comfort you get
from that old ugly shirt
the moments you forget to count
that all add up
to
being
   happy

I jumped from couch to couch, avoiding the floor that was lava.
The balloon soared and floated in the air, and it could not touch the ground.
Circus animal cookies and chocolate milk were there everyday.
When I was small, the world was big and magical.

My role models were Barney and Babar, Kermit and Elmo.
I wore pink leotards and frilly tutus and stretchy slippers and shiny, black tap shoes.
I’d look up at the sky to see that fluffy white clouds were bunnies, hippos and butterflies.
When I was small, nothing was impossible.

Parks were kingdoms and the jungle-gym was the castle.
My glittery costume gown and my plastic tiara meant I was a real princess,
Peter Pan would come take me away, to live in Neverland.
When I was small, I was immortal.

i stand with my towel wrapped around my body
water droplets clinging to my skin
fresh out of the shower I examine my face in the mirror
My eyebrows look a uneven
My nose looks to big for my face
My lips look larger than usual
reminds me of grade school
how all the boys pointed out that my lips
weren't like the other girls
                            
i drop my towel and bring my hand to my neck
trace my collarbone
my hand drops to my stomach
it rest there, pinches the excess skin
Tssk,Tssk that'll have to go
my hand sweeps across my thighs
The gap is to small
                                                                     i cannot be this young girl with wild hair and wild eyes

Many things enchanting
convey no meaning,
even if you think-
there indeed is something.
Isn't it bit frustrating?

Life springs surprises on us
this is how it is:
strangers, meet at some point,
find love, and become sweethearts.
Isn't it wonderful?
Then, you sometimes wonder
why, the opposite also should happen,
without any rhyme or reason?

It's such a pain, death of love,
doubt, difficult times of strife,
we loose all we gain,
you have enough time, consider this:
precious genes get eroded and be gone.
A river.You watch with a fervor
not easy to express.The flow
makes one exhilarated beyond words.
And then comes summer.Drought
The flow now, is a story told in the past.
Water now becomes scarce.Trickle
The story drastically changes.

We've been in love, I remember,
even the thought, gets me rejuvenated.
Dead trees become active,
new sprouts appear, sap flows with vigor,
leaves regain the lovely green smile.

This too happen as a rule,
tired leaves turn brown,
slowly they let go and fall down,
become one with the earth.
Transform in to nutrients
in a chemical change.

Mostly depressed
Slightly undressed
Pink lingerie
Egg white souffle

She stares, unaware
Of herself
But does not spare
Myself

From that agonizing beauty
Awe-striking allure
Of something so utterly
p u r e .