Less Than Perfect

I was wondering when I saw that bearded old man on his little sheet of chequered red.

With his legs tucked away and his ribs giving away his long days of being unfed.

I was wondering even more when I saw her sitting there dejectedly,watching him sleep.

As if her troubles were not enough for her, she had to bring more from him to keep.

And then as my car whooshed by I turned my head around to see my mistake.

She was not there for him, the pain behind the pain in those eyes could not be fake.

As my head set itself into motion to look at the road ahead again.

My heart ached silently in the morning rush to feel that same pain.

What would I not give to feel that pain again, exihilirating thrill.

I would give anything to feel that longing brood against my will.

To trust again, to love free of fear of what does it all really mean.

This story is about him& her but also of what could have been.

[i]

I thought of naming this "him & her" but i dunno why "less than perfect" jumped to my mind n took precedence.

The Pink Letter

I dreamt of the letter again tonight

As the sun came in with its rays so bright 

I stretched out my arms for what is mine 

The pink letter of my countless dreams divine

I try and try to peep in inside, catch a glance

To see what you have written only for me, if I have a chance 

It’s got flowers and lovely ribbons on the outside 

It makes my eyes go a love-struck surprised wide 

And then I see it’s not a letter at all but a beautiful pink card 

With birthday wishes and the lovely handwriting of a feminine bard 

It’s not mine at all, not my name anywhere at all…

Neither in the ‘to’ nor in the ‘from’ 

But there’s the touch of a female form 

I look away in my dreams, unable to bear the pain 

I had been so presumptuous, was so vain. 

Peeping into the past or the future is not my business 

So I shut up and look at the present dizziness 

As days and nights meaninglessly whizz past us... 

I just stay numb and wish that the pink letter was mine. 

But neither have you cared enough nor have I 

It’s been a relationship of convenience from the very start 

I know you’ll say me saying this hurts. 

Good news is that I don’t dream of it anymore 

But the truth doesn’t set you free, 

It just binds you to a greater degree.

A golden cage

A slender figure, decades old.
Sitting with her cage, made of gold.
Long dead eyes look out to see the sky.
But her sight is too blurred, for her to see by.
She waits for him with the letters cutched in her hand.
Waiting for the winged bird to come with like magical wand.
Her white cold hand touches the paper.
Ages old and decayed, like forget-me-nots they smoulder.
Turning into dust, valued at nitch.
She smiles as she wonders if her looks still bewitch.
Dreams in her dreams wearing the white wedding gown.
She tries to remember love as just a noun.
Spiders weaving cobwebby tale make home in her bosom.
A sad destiny indeed for a maid so lissom
Stares at the images on the wall, vision flickers.
Tomorrow she'll be gone with no trace; faith never wavers.
Waiting for him, she must,as she always had.
Letting not a tear fall, as promised to her lad.
The room is his, so are the letters.
But she lives there in her mind, bound by imaginary fetters.
For there is her mind- passion glows.
For there is that room emotions overflow.