A moment dropped

Last night in the dark,

A moment just slipped off my hand,

my eyes rolled off to my finger tips,
and scourged the parched land.

I ran to the sun for help,

But its door was closed; locked.

I made my way up the window,

But his lights were off, he was sleep soaked.

I stood at the window,

Hoping it to rise,

But it was too early in the night,

I just left a tear by his bed side.

On my way back,

I saw the waves rushing to the coast,

Clearing the mess made by day,

Coz its the only time alone, its crowded by day.

I reached the lawn,

Where I dropped my moment,

hoping the birds would sing,

for the sun to wake any moment.

I tried making a bunch of stars,

To make a sun for night.

But they were too tiny and pricky,

And often fell off my hand.

I tried making a bunch all night,

And they often vanished my sight.

I worked blinded by my desire,

And they just played all night.

And then I saw a flock of servants,

Flying east to pull the sun up,

And there he came stretching his arms,

And smiling along as he came.

I pounced and searched the grass again,

To find my moment again.

But the dew had washed the moment away,

The sun rise was just in vain.

I still hate the sun,

For not staying at night.

I still look for that moment,

I dropped in the grass one night.

                                                                …Shiv.

A truck load of dreams,

A lifetime not enough.

reach the top of the world,

peaks not high enough.

Want to fly high,

Just wings not enough.

A fresh life of fragrance,

Flowers too shy off.

A shower of warm love,

A waterfall not enough.

A swim in the wilderness,

Oceans not enough.

for a song of heart,

Words not enough.

Thirst of the eyes,

Beauty not enough.

A breath for life,

Air just not enough.

Grip the time,

Two palms not enough.

For a peaceful sleep,

night just not enough.

For a serene death,

Life, just not enough.

                                    ...Shiv.

One usual evening,

Sun not yet set.

lit up windows,

floating in the air.

Trees reaching out their arms,

To grip the sky.

To pull over the blanket,

From horizon to up high.

Lying on such a floating,

But unlit window,

I found a key.

The key to the closet of my thoughts.

I thought of all that scattered,

On the floor of time,

And all that well stacked,

On the memory shelves.

The lamp of wisdom,

That flickered more often than not.

Bottles of smiles, loaf of pranks.

And the book of stupidity.

The chair of serene peace,

the couch of warm friends.

Tea poi of promises,

With cups of everlasting trust.

Wardrobe of warm happy suits,

A few thrown lonely socks.

T-shirts of jokes and quotes,

The ever growing pants.

The drawer filled,

With fragrance of love.

A small kerchief of tears,

An album of colourful moments.

A pen missing,

The pen of present.

Tucked in my pocket,

Use it to fill the closet.

I smiled, and placed the key back,

On the unlit floating window.

The trees rested their stretched arms,

They had pulled the blanket over.

                                                         …Shiv.

Jingles and rhymes,

Beloved’s smiles.

Heart filled desires,

Uncaptured times.

Moments of touch,

Unflown tears.

Silent moments,

Thoughtless walks.

Tilted head for a sight,

Shutting eyes of acceptance.

Anxiety to be,

Warmth of a company.

Wish to be good,

Compassionate cushion.

Pleasure to miss,

The daily chaos.

Watch the sky,

Without the stars.

Sleep with heart,

Naked of rising dreams.

A soft cuddled kid,

Thumb tucked in the mouth.

Satisfied, fulfilled,

Sleepy and sleeping.

                                      -Shiv.