Soft hands embed names
on pliant golden sand
Making nonsense patterns
Too precious to be named;
Transient, to be washed away
with the next weak wave
that leaves in its wake
a silent rush of deep brown mud:
Tear-stained and cracked.
Repititive patterns
similarly mould
a willing force,
defensive against itself;
Too selfish to be safe;
A quiet echo of painless surrender
Destroys all castles built out of purple
reflections
on the surface of some
silent, glassy lake
©Geetakshi Arora
November 9, 2013
This here is one more fav of mine for it's elegant symmetry - Di
ReplyDeleteThank you soo much di!
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my mind gives me divergent interpretations of your poem. If i time travel to see where u were positioned when you wrote this poem, i find a romantic backdrop. Correct me if m wrong.
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