Sunday, January 19, 2014

Of poets

Sometimes you take
unearthly shapes.
Like shadows caught
in passing headlights.
Trapped frozen
in the viscous blue
of the thickening nights.
You are the thought
that I think when
the water is swirling
in velvety circles.
Taking with it the grime
of simple, worldly pleasures.
A new shirt here.
An old song there.
Everything turned to
liquid and drained away.
You catch me unawares
and yet sometimes I can
hear your footsteps afar.
You are the memory
I can't shake off.
The guilt I can't diffuse.
You are the past sorrow,
the unseen tomorrow.
But more than my monster
you are my muse. 

1 comment:

virinder sabharwal said...

:-) " But more than my monster
you are my muse" thumbs poetess!