My honey,
my fresh dew
my angel face.
Gentle as a flute note
so lovable
as the deep cheer
of a violin.
Do you know –
your laughter
of an hour ago
trickles
even as you sleep curled
– innocence dripping?
The very innocence
that nails in place
the wavering guilt
of my heartless admonishment.
When you wake up
you’ll make it seem,
like it’s all a closed
chapter.
Like a whistled tune
the shameful past
will dissolve
into nothingness.
Ma, you’ll call soon
looking through sleepy eyes,
hug, kiss and laugh
Painting rainbows
in my soul.
And my heart
like ever
will leap and bounce
with the joy of a butterfly
bouncing off the flowers
of spring!
My honey,
my fresh dew
my angel face
Gentle as a flute note
so lovable
as the deep cheer
of a violin.
I won’t tell you
for you may not
understand.
Or for you,
it wouldn’t even matter.
Hence, words pour
spewing resentment
at my damned attitude.
Words pour
blackening paper
– the colour of regret
speckled with
heartfelt tears.
And they say –
Sorry, sweetie.
Picture by LMAP under CC license