the first grey hair
the very first wrinkle
my first spectacles
eyes without a twinkle
being lost in the crowd
no one giving a second glance
walking alone lost in my thoughts
nothing can I leave to chance
and then when I see him
my heart still skips a beat
a flutter, a shiver
did he turn on the heat
and I go back a million years
to the days of love and passion
the eyes gleam, the skin glows
it’s all about fatal attraction
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Que Sera Sera.”
………………………………………………………………….
sitting on the rubble
the tiny kidÂ
too frail for his age
dirty hands and torn clothes
staring vacantly
passers-by oblivious to his existence
the mother long gone
where will his fate take him
what perseverance he would show
how will he change his destiny
the night descends
making my mind fearful
of what lies ahead
the myriad thoughts about life
in my head
making sleep more elusive
and the insomniac is ready to face the world
(envoy or hanka)
and the long day ahead
makes me daydream about sleep
ironical it is
to wait for the night to descend
circle of life at its best
