every time
you walk in the rain imagine that touches your skin is a promise
of a kiss
that I will claim when our monsoon finally comes. |
On wizened
hands dry like an old tree stump, drops fall in twos and threes. she smiles a wrinkled slow motion smile at an age old memory. rain rain, come again. - Nikita |
i leapt
over fear;
a fledgling
with half-formed wings.
falling was imminent,
i knew it deep within.
now memories cut
like a blade meeting skin-
you drew
me out
i drew you in.
|
As a child I was afraid
of darkness and the dead,
but with time queerer things
have crept into my head.
These days what thrills me
and yet fills me with dread;
is that at times, quite willingly,
I take monsters to bed.
|
