Open homes and hearts

 

Flying balloons and boards,

They beckon me towards,

AS I slowly open the door,

Anticipation, within soars.

 

The welcome helloes done,

And, now begins the fun,

With the crowd milling around,

There are surprises to be found.

 

“Charming, cozy and comfortable,

To afford, are you, currently able?

These are words strewn about,

When stories I begin to spout.

 

I look at some of them in awe,

In others, I find many a flaw,

There isn’t one, that’s perfect,

It is just all about the connect.

 

With the thank-yous, this ends,

I close the door, on my intends.

I wonder if this is in my fate?

Here, memories, will I create?

 

I turn back, for a last glance,

Did it sufficiently entrance?

Then, I get yanked to reality,

Finances matter, what a pity!

Delusional restitution

 

I dreamt about you yesterday,

You were weak and whittled,

I saw you unstable and tottering,

The smile on your face unbridled.

 

In the colorless hospital gown,

I saw you in a faded vision,

As we all paced around,

Bring you home, was the mission.

 

I heard the excited voices,

Conversation, I don’t catch,

I seemed to be participating,

But there was a slight detach.

 

I saw you like old times,

The eagerness in your eyes,

I quieted my worrying mind,

And joined in, in the reprise.

 

Did the events transpire such?

It blended with the facts,

I willed myself to a new hope,

But reality, remained intact.

 

 

 

Skip to spring

Magnificence in the horizon,

With many hues, emblazoned.

In silence, I soak it all in,

Everything is new within,

 

The drifting spring breeze,

Puts me at complete ease,

By the sprouting colors on trees,

My turbulent mind gets appeased.

 

Formerly frigid frozen skies of gray,

The sunny splendor drove it away,

Refresh and renew, they say,

It’s the cycle of life at play.

Mundane Romance

 

 

Unprofessional, others silently fumed,

To split up, they seemed to be doomed,

But, they moved on without a care,

Illegitimately, with their own fare.

 

Conflict of interest, another said,

Resentment toward her, it bred,

Special favors to her, were seen,

But, their fondness didn’t wean.

 

Formal action, some threatened,

But, he was a force to be reckoned,

They carried on their forbidden affair,

Of the nasty whispers, blissfully unaware.

Requests requited

As I set out to face

Another day, a week,

The crazy hurried pace,

Isn’t for the meek.

In the midst of it all,

I send up a silent look,

To hold me when I fall,

To steady me, if I shook.

His ways, I find are clever,

Invisible hands wiping my tear,

There is, I find, never,

An unanswered prayer.

Grind, the dreary kind.

A day at work, like any other,

Things continue to smother,

Productivity turns non-existent,

But, tasks growingly persistent.

 

With my little notebook, I peer,

Hoping to make the day disappear,

Like the sound of the closing bell,

I await for my time of farewell.

 

Day dawns bright and boring,

With the early alarms blaring,

Rinse and repeat, the day goes on,

While I try and stifle my yawn.

 

Monotony is the name of the game,

Breaking it, garners you fame,

Until then, bear the daily grind,

And, to this tedium, be consigned.

Often said, cliche

Her eyes, frantic, sought out,

The only one that mattered,

Fleetingly, an instance of doubt,

Her breath seemed to falter.

 

He then came into sight,

Clothed in complete perfection,

Was it, in tiny armor, her knight?

As she soaked in, her elation.

 

All of seven pounds he lay,

Swaddled in oodles of love,

Bawling his little lungs away.

Life now changes and how!

 

A runaway kite, left to fare.

 

I hold in my desires,

I reign in, my hopes,

As dreams take me astray,

And, love makes me afloat.

 

I drift away unbridled,

In the vast expanse of joy,

Flailing unrestrained,

Amidst clouds of calm.

 

Far away, I set my sights,

Leaving certainty behind,

The brave breeze of change,

Carpets me to there.

 

I soar in wild abandon,

Without looking back,

Like an arrow shot in the air,

A runaway kite, left to fare.

Growing up and growing old

Pensive, I brood the past day,

A number, that’s all, I try to say,

While decrepit, I am not,

With signs of it, I am wrought.

 

Credibly, I may still pass off,

As young, without anyone’s scoff,

But, the day isn’t far,

With wrinkles, I maybe marred.

 

I wear my grays in pride,

After all, that was to betide,

Wisdom, I await upon me,

Ripe and mellow, soon to be.

Cogently contradictory

 

I walk in anticipation,

Of the ever present beauty,

I await in apprehension,

Of the things falling apart.

 

I soar in joy, along with,

The many stories of triumph,

I shed copious tears,

At the thought of the others.

 

I breeze through in ease,

At some daily tasks,

I struggle hard and long,

With other demands at hand.

 

A big bag of paradoxes,

Is all I seem to be,

But Inimitably unique,

Is was I intend to stay.

Rocking routine

Friday arrives without much ado,

Weekends sought after are due.

A rolling list of things to do,

Serenity, elusively, I try to woo.

 

Strewn by social interaction,

Routinely are the same faction.

My tasks remain in non-completion.

As I continue on with my infractions.