If you look long enough
into this magic tree
that’s taken root outside my window
here’s what you will see –
a lattice of leaves
transform mid-morning
into starry sky….
Street sounds,
motorcar horns
become
the musical clip-clop
of a horse…
cruel smoke and smog
filter through
as shape-shifting stardust…
and tears charmed
right out of my eyes
to become
drops of dew, drops of rain
on the leaves’ undersides…
Categories: beauty · dreams · language · life · nature · poem · thoughts · tree · words · writing
Last night, at the traffic signal, a boy came up to the car. As they often do. With a bunch of jasmine strings. “Take it, for your hair,” he giggled. His eyes, though, were weary.
Yes, I will. Two strings of jasmine. One for you, one for me. One will adorn my hair. Cool my head, too. The other will be my gift to you. For jasmine-scented dreams. For a touch of me with you.
The boy is waiting patiently. The light turns green. We pay him in a flurry. Five rupees. For two sets sets of jasmine dreams.
Who says the price of living has gone up?
Categories: dreams · jasmine · language · life · thoughts · words
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