Warming up the palms

There was an echo in my spastic brain
To paint with words of illumination
On the glory of lonely sun

A surreal reality it was to hear
For I felt I’m inveigled
To retrieve the forgotten thoughts

Neither did I reflect on the hotness
Nor the greatness of its presence
For I’d already become a child at heart

The glitter of calm water beds
And the display of colourful clouds
Impressed me less to record

Ah! I could see my small eyes
Looking intently at the shining particles
That roamed freely in the cozy rays

How hastily I tried to capture
The warm specks into the little palms
That was less sensitive to failures

Alas! I find very hard to write
On the bubbling innocent feelings
And the shadows of beaming past
For they can't be limited with words


Picture courtesy - www.mundofree.com/nothern_lights/hammershoi9.jpg

The Wait

Usurped by the intangible emotions
My closed eyes that embraced darkness
Let those clichés from the niche of heart

The knees that tucked my face in between
Became wet with tear droplets of longing
That bore the reverential wait with patience

Time stood still in the puddle of life
As there seemed no escape from the drama
That was reveling immensely in delight

I invented then my desire to longing
And ‘the wait’ are my chosen pleasures
To twist moments of life interesting