WARM PEELS

 Insults and wintery chill

the more we assume, the more it clutches us. 

Reminiscing about hot tomato soups and buttered bread

a cosy family of four around 

the pastel flowered sun Maica table

the hot and piping charcoaled sweet potatoes

my father peeling fondly 

for yearning eyes and mouths of mine and my sister.

The bursting of crackers, visits of friends and families

the exchange of sweet packets, the hugs and smiles

the siblings outrace to draw arty patterns on veranda 

and lighting of terraced earthen lamps

the joy of new clothes, 

Diwali, a warm light each winter ushers.

Winters now in Arab deserts, 

a treasured time with family

lightened with daughter's yearly Christmas visit

snuggled catching up under thick cosy blankets

listening to tales of life of cold London months

and spouse's scattered jokes.

Eyes awakening to blooming pink and purple flowers

caressing the walled fence

morning walks breathing the crisp chill desert air

Picnics on grass in weekends

Fingers encircling hot mugs of tea

A winter my senses nestle for each year.

DREAD

His smile brightens the fridge door

a person dearly missed 

contemplate his often-spoken syllables

"Getting bored, getting bored", 

snatched away on the threshold of nineties

bored a term, I fear.

Idleness is

creative to garner new interests

slow moving for the sick and solitary

challenging for the insecure loners

scary if seeks self-pity as an alias.

 A homemaker by label

lots of spare moments nestle in 

few vacant stares a day a required lull

incalculable gazes 

brews cynical threats

Scares me for negativity starts 

its chant of perfection.

Persistent irrigation for cultivated

interests

poetry one of the few 

Sudoku, music, tutoring, exercise 

the other companions of the day.

On the doorway to sixties

my smile corresponds to his smile

I may exceed his age some day 

hope I conquer the inescapable

with enthusiastic pursuits.

A QUESTION

Each letter of alphabet inquiring the other, 

did we not come together to name countries

Ukraine, Syria, Israel or Serbia

to name a few.

Are the names not endearing

then why are we being sliced?

Why does peace elude my people

What did we err?

Church, mosque or temple

isn't it where mortals congregate

Then why another meet at the border?

Online sites abundant for mankind

A gift of urgent need 

but no sale or offer 

even on a Black Friday.

Where can I buy peace?

Is there any country left 

unblemished by war

Mankind's innovation

some creating arms for annihilation

some devising apps to meet and chat

We need no online apps or sites

to squander or chat.

 

All we need is you

Peace, be heroic to embrace us 

for we live in perennial fear of one another.

A CONVERSATION

A gaze on a walk, an old bent lady

a toothless smile 

feet rushed home like never before

Words tumbled to capture her appeal

my first poem took shape.

Shape got swamped in moss of

work, family and inertia.

Uprooting unattended weeds

ideas redecided to 

set sail again on a sea of letters

forging new friendships

to coat thoughts.

Thoughts enjoy the me time

a weekly practice when

emptying scratched treasure

senses experience delight.

A time when existence of

staring table clock seems 

worthless.

It's just me 

and noises on the keyboard

relevant noises for some 

whom I never met

a bond formed on this site.

Every single view and comment

a heartfelt acceptance

to keep making more noise.

PATCH

I am not perfect

my blemishes a part of me

your constant advice

no good concealer

rub on some acceptance 

see relationship glow.

THE INSEPERABLE GREENS

Blending with the backdrop, they toil

at the crack of sun,

pruning trees, fencing plants for a landscape

their appearances all look homogenous

unknown, they stare at faces in flashy cars

homogeneity, forgotten the second the car cruises away

Plants recognise them, flowers look for their presence each day

 plants fortunate to be quenched with recyclable water

the deprived gardeners sipping from bottles roasted. 

The caring branches bestowing miniscule shade

stare helplessly at food turning stale under the 

canopy of sun

the gardeners hungrily devouring the rice and dal

sweat trickling from rugged palms

A sporadic laugh with other bodies in green 

a camouflaged relief from temperatures inching

to half century.

Families back home sporting various colours, a picture

tucked in each green core, pushing them to board buses

and mend gardens outside stranger's houses and offices.

One does not need suntan lotion, the other cannot manage one.

One green caring for its variant,

one green blooms, grows and bears flowers 

and commands appreciation,

the substitute toils till the pick-up bus stops and 

drives the undetectable, worn-out greens back to quarters.

MY SUMMER SHARE

Buckets of water excitedly spilled on hot floor in an Indian village
splashing and skidding we all flop on the wet veranda
cousins giggling and whispering
electricity shying away from rural heat.

The buzzing mosquitoes sharing the moonlight
with belches and snores of elders on hand spun cots
our decade old hands forming circles to trap stars far away
an occasional breeze dozing the lone candlelight.

Unconcerned of floor dehydrated again, we droop off
stirring up to trace sweaty maps on floor
our twisted groggy shapes creating
a fictitious continent or a country.

Our innocent smiles pursue masking the heat outside
cold waters of the courtyard well, waiting to scrub sticky bodies.
Jumping and hopping, chewing the field's sugarcanes and groundnuts
licking fresh dried mango pieces, savouring each warm moment
of summer vacation.

My feet having travelled many ages
I gaze out now to stare at the hot Arabian sands,
sitting in the synthetic coolness of the air conditioner.

Power of the power, not timid any longer,
commanding every shape
be it round on the wrist or rectangular in hand
or the coolness of my triangle roofed house.

Signalling the alarming rate of existing countries
or places shrinking or unseated
global warming and politicians
each playing their dominating share.

My warm share of summer just now a tale I attempt to keep raw
sharing with my daughter, each time the narrative told
becoming hazier than the sun setting in the horizon.

A HALT

Passiveness my arch-rival

overtly active, I somewhere along 

cremated   laziness.

Eyes open every morning 

to meet self-imposed deadlines

An enthusiasm to overdo

each tiny tick

an unexplainable thrill.

Nagging pains startle me

age creeping faster than imagined

manifests in sounds of ouch 

from unthinkable joints.

Yet I tagged along,

always confident that life 

is a boon and so every second 

has to be productive

aiming for the prefect shot 

striving each day 

A pause three months ago

and a part of me just never 

made to the corner.

A corner where my father 

left me forever.

Inching to halt more often

learning to create white spaces

now and then

I halt and gaze.

A blur in the vision

the misty corner stares

forever and ever.

A TURMOIL

Thoughts gasp for getaway

fingers hum aimlessly

over the keyboard, 

mind scours closets 

at times for ideas or words.

Some effortlessly slip

others' tantrums drain.

Yet love 

the tango of words

on the screen. 

A forlorn lover's gaze

a naive poetic romance 

initiated and rekindled 

often quenching

a thirst unknown.

CUT- ACTION

The soggy mind drilling briskly 

the raw wounds wrenching

and begging to halt.

 It's karma, says the mind

the pangs will revert.

Death, pain, anxiety, stress

suffering has multiple aliases

each alias offering unwanted

companionship in each one's life.

We run, it chases, there is no escape.

Murders, rapes, injustice, inequality

blink from every screen. 

Thoughts scratch looking for answers

It's karma, say the wise.

Awards, affections, likes and thumb sups

its good karma, continue doing

the elderly advice,

 Past lives, actions bear fruit

in consecutive lives, the seers opine.

The curtain rises every day, 

the stage set, actors all around 

busy performing actions

some dedicatedly scrub 

dirt of past misdoings

others uncaring tread

the path of shortcuts.

Wish to wipe each negative action

burden too heavy to bear

its past lives' too, say certain texts

ugly fangs of ill will often awake

due to sheer habit.

Effort yet on to do the right

mankind tries, 

the stage each day 

scenes unfold

the director above 

busy noting all deeds

a detailed report card 

awaits,

and one fine day

CUT- the above director calls

and actions cease forever.

 

AN OLD LADY

 A romance of times, 

 my emotions desired to be clad

a fifteen-year bond,

words playing game of hide and seek.

Thoughts cajoling words lazing on some days

on other days, relishing the five-star buffet

picking the exquisite ones.

Words eager as in the game of musical chair

parking at right places, thoughts patting words, 

 the unlucky ones exit.

the therapeutic delivery, cessation of pangs

the numerous stanzas shaping

a poem at the end

a joyful process each time 

I write poetry.

The same joy recurs 

as when I saw the toothless old lady

with bent frame on the street

and rushed to come home to

write my first poem.

Her smile so beautiful

only poetry aptly couching

my thoughts with right words. 

REFLECTION

My reflection belies me

Rewind life twenty years past

The present me would have 

received a smirk

I may seem unrecognisable.

Unpredictable mood swings, restlessness

impulsiveness hung in my past wardrobe.

My ears heating the landline

mouth resting only when lips clasped

to rest the empty bed.

Emotional dependency, delegation,

attention seeking my second skin

I never thought to shred.

A one eighty-degree shift 

my spouse's description of 

current me.

Whom do I owe my gratitude to?

Meditation or morning pages,

every little sprinkle cleansed

my blemished soul.

Pauses and solitude

my preferred confidants now

my daily itinerary, enviously defended.

Life never seemed more refreshing

The pleasure of the silences,

beauty of tasks achieved

stretches spent with me

each moment a joy in itself.

Fast froward twenty years ahead

My future may turn 

to acknowledge 

the present me

if crossed paths.

A WAVE LESS

The Uber picks me and my suitcase

as I bid bye to my folks

the one wave and parting hug

seem less.

Memories coat my every minute

the last three weeks still a blur.

Still a hope that the phone would ring

 or he would come back

and I would rush to him.

The ache in my heart hurts

a pain no one can cure

it's his blood in my veins

a person so full of life

and warmth, just 

diminished to bones and ash

immersed by me in a sacred river.

The voice in my head refusing to accept

my mother's and sister's 

incessant tears search for answers.

His heart one day decided to rest

leaving us marooned forever.

SHELTER

Like the fallen bridge pieces, 

tripped many a time in life

crossing even the levelled one's

asked for a hand to help.

Solitude or inactivity 

submerged wet depths

in unwanted waters.

Five years of meditation

and scribbling morning pages

the broken soggy wood of the

 old soul seems unrecognisable.

The subtle urge to not react,

the little nails of perseverance

indeed a shelter built with no one's help

where each wooden bit is a new me. 

CLOUDS

Each time we stare its a new you

the black sometimes embedded in white

the dark patchy gloom never tiring to exist.

At moments, the snowy white freckles 

stir milky drops of hope in life.

You condense and expand as an amoeba

your each new shape even Geometry puzzled to label

You remind us of  light cotton balls blown away by wind

Your shimmering radiance pales even the icy glaciers.

A game of hide and seek you play

with colours of black and white

there is no nook you did not visit

 there is no corner you did not hide

The indigo blue sky a free witness to your game of chess

The vapoury clouds below, subtly balancing your zebra shades

your greyish tinges peeking on and off.

Life indeed a precarious canvas of dark and light tones

each one's paintbrush juggling the black with the white.

THE SCRIPT

The glass half empty, or glass half full

a hackneyed maxim reliant

on viewer's disposition.

Is it as simple as it reverberates 

or is it the script in our head 

that tightens the knots?

Scripts scribbled in invisible ink

our mind harping them tirelessly

our ego smiling to see it cemented.

Years pass the concrete 

firms our stance

a thin whiff of malleability

sweats to squeeze in.

Existence then, a ping pong match

each one's script bouncing

against the other.

The unwrapped erasers of the psyche

cocooned next to the fat book, lust to shrink

Look out for the permanent markers

screams the glass half full or half empty.

It ain't easy, squirms the ego

Repair the script to match others, 

Keep attempting, says the glass

Isn't other's script also

worth a look? 

This poem is a reference to how opinions get fixated, convincing or getting convinced both then becoming a challenge with age.

The LAST LAUGH

Bruised survivors scavenging familial limbs

eyes blinded by scarlet puking earth

split toes poking the stranded ripped shoe 

a finish only we ought to be see 

with salted popcorn for company.

Yet human intelligence defies all borders

the thrill to annihilate to irresistible

video games insatiable to 

whet real human appetite

Oozing red, bruised blue

the preferred colours of global leaders.

Death, the most marketable commodity

Countries the most zealous customers

hoarding  tools of destruction.

Man made borders and contempt 

drawing human extinction.

The flock of birds hovering 

above the corpses have the last laugh.

Colour, borders, nationalities

non existent in their orbit

whole world now served on

a free platter for them to share.

EXPRESSION

Your inconceivable power

we pine to utter you 

use you from 

the moment 

our senses blink.

The mind in a perineal 

rush to form you 

even in dreams,

we use you

lest you get perturbed.

At times you bruise

At times you bandage 

The sedative effect you induce

the calming feeling you lull

the charisma you allure with.

You quench every poet's thirst

every author's fancy.

Love torments in your absence,

Human mind is orphaned without you.

CLOSENESS

Mushrooms of  pinkish purple tint

The blurred reflection heightening

the aesthetics.

The beauty arrests my attention 

only if you are next to me.

Argumentative moments,

sulking times do not escape us

yet every born thought of mine

gropes for your companionship.

Your presence multiplies the 

charm of the environs

be it the violet mushrooms

or the glowworms dazzling. 

BUBBLY ENIGMA

 You never cease to surprise me

Each time l see you

I pine for your touch

Your salty smell intoxicates me.

The bubbles and froth beckon me 

to immerse my body and soul 

The clinging moss and algae 

do not bother me.

Size doesn't matter to you, for the dolphins

and tiny fish swim in harmony

nor does colour, the jellyfish swims 

sans contempt with the black sea bass.

The plastic caps and cans bruise your heart

Your beauty tattooed with  litter

I try to feel your clean vein

Strands of mixed shreds whirl me

I untangle it, 

but the corals and weeds seem asphyxiated.

You are blessed to be salty

else mankind would have parched you.

 

Your depths hold mysteries unravelled

Your heights a wavy treat for the surfers

You expand tickling surfaces unknown

You contract to cup in palms of  dear ones. 

Your tides hold gossips of all maritime farers 

Be it the fisherman in his dingy boat

Or the lofty ships that sail across.

Your very image evokes emotions unheard

words scratch each other to form unseen lexicon

Every time I visit you, a calmness suits me up

I can never have enough of you.

A beautiful life

Energy, a word encountered in science books

Positive energy  the buzz word every one hooks

Enthusiasm, positive vibes uplift mood

Eternal yearning always for this food. 

Untimely shocks slow down life's languid pace

A sprinkle of positivity aids  catch up the race

Sometimes l wonder, where to look for positivity

to erase my anger, mood swings and negativity,

Abundantly pregnant with positivity are some

through podcasts and Ted talks offer to the lonesome.

Yet at moments of dark hour, none of these make a gentle tour

Mind then harbours negativity, body responds in duplicity.

How I wish positivity was a subject at school

Each one of us would have had a beautiful tool.

It's all about training the mind, say the wise

Wish it were so easy then all of us would get the prize,

Ascending into years where aches prefer our companionship

positive energy is the much sought after blue chip

To never leave, it needs lot of tricks and treats 

My day begins with a treasure hunt for motivational sweets.

 

GIFT OF LOVE

 Sarthak and Aashima, welcome to 

a new journey of happiness and joy.  

There will be moments of sheer

excitement and an  occasional

 sprinkle of who will make tea today

or who kept wet towels on bed?

Yet this journey with your loved one

will turn most  sulks into cheer. 

Sarthak,  your timely sense of humour 

will bring a smile on Aashima lips.

Aashima, blessed are you to have 

Shikha as mother in law, for her

warmth is like an endless ocean.

She is our adventure groups'

lifeline who keeps us all connected.

Be it night or day, her house

in our hearts has no lock. 

Aashima, you cannot wish for a 

better father in law, than Manoj

bhaiya. 

Patience personified, extremely

 supportive spouse, wonderful

and caring human being. 

He introduced Nishta as

his daughter to us.

A new sojourn interspersed 

with emotional spices

just share each spice

for a flavourful life.

Blessings of this extended family 

whose hearts and doors are 

always open to you both.

 

TWILIGHT

 Hard rocky terrains house

the most magnificent flowers

bathed in setting sun 

diligently performing

 duty of the last hour. 

A shooting star of hope 

dashing across the grey skies

smidst the night gearing up 

for its shift.

 Twilight zone of each day,

when cattle graze back home,

birds fly back to nests

mortals snuggle back 

to the warmth of homes. 

Each day interspersed

with boulders of challenges

budding flowers of joy

prickly adverse comments

lovely rays of praise

greyness of loneliness 

and meteor of hugs.

 

 

PLACID

I wish to be the unperturbed orange bunch of flowers staring at the rapids sliding furiously down.

Science classes drilled lines, every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

My past reactions  always same or equal, kindness for kindness, outburst for outburst.

How l wish, l could unwind and have opposite reaction always, kindness for indifference, equanimity for anger.

I try to swim against tide each day, others angry rapids still drown me in theirs.

I wish to be like the black stones unflinchingly letting the torrents pass by.

VIEW

Bald uneven white patches 

brown rocky mountains

 clothed  prickly 

a piercing green halo born 

courtesy the forced rays 

multitasking  to erase

the  black smudges.

Slithery snowy strips

knotting hills 

a solo hill range

flirting with skies above.

Icy flakes lazy to melt

nudge sun to sweat more.

a true palette of spectacle.

 

BLOSSOM

Shining embers blaze translucently

dripping halo of  golden pearls 

fur combed interwoven black

thin strands weighing down

a mesmerising luminous flower.

 

Trying poets lives interwoven here 

lines weighing on creased minds

strands of verses slipping fingers

glowing thoughts taking  form

a cinderous creation of each writer.

NOCTURNAL

Night stars bask in moon's glow

Tall dark trees illuminated from above

The lonely stretch  bereft of travellers 

Nature's light untempting for weak hearts

to explore unexplored stretches.

Fear of dark, a known story to me

as a child, scared to fetch items from

next room during power cuts.

Now a bit brave than then 

darkness my best mate 

when eyelids droop.

SPICE

 The white lashing waves

black stones of all sizes

turmeric coloured sun

chilli coloured radiance

a slice of daily existence.

Some just  view with 

pair of black eyeballs

and white retinas,

others sprinkle each moment 

with individual spices

 to suit their palate.

We are analogous

to the beach pebbles

moulded in different

sizes and shapes.

COMPLETE

The gentle sun rays caressing  the trees

the cluster of shoots catching their share

A soft warmth blankets the atmosphere

Drying my cold tears

I walk hand in hand with my mate

our naked feet stir the sleepy meadows 

a sun kissed dew drop  sneakily 

settles on our interwoven fingers

My thoughts and his exchange glances 

Another day to be with each other

in our lives midway. 

BEAUTY SLEEP

Hey, little flurry squirrel, cosily dozing

on the lap of the broken branch,

do you feel lazy to move and 

start the day?

I too feel so many a time

Your twig's and my bed's snugness

too enticing to resist.

Cold wintry mornings

a perfect recipe for deep slumber

and missing alarm snoozes.

SHAPES

The excitement of geometry class

eager compasses out of geometry box

drawing and erasing for perfection

triangle and angles, circles and rectangles.

 Nature offering free tutoring  

loosely hanging triangle on the spherical  pebbles

the arch of sunlight, angles in the rocky crevices

 perfect parallel lines and slanting lines

a magnificent geometry teacher 

if  we pause and look.

ESSENCE

 Nature's reflection of its own self

in waters below.

Content in its own achievements

the blue sky, not striving to compare with

the dewy mist underneath

the  trees satisfied to be their companion.

Humans' endless struggle, seeking constant 

endorsements of others, a lifelong addiction.

Life's journey ends in a moment 

ashes mingled in nature

with none to compare.

 

STICK OUT

Five moss painted nails 

tempted the lens to capture

endearing in its sight

a minute contrast 

to canopy and arch of shying light. 

Our eyes search always for something 

distinctive to stand out

jut like each one of us

striving to be unique

in our own special way.

DELUGE

Millions of breaths since birth,

the one habit which doesn't await setting

time or space for practice.

The breath  at times plunges

into an abyss of  amnesia 

venom spewing negativity of media

criticisms and judgemental behaviour

of loved ones sucking the air we all need.

Gasping for that one lightning to

strike and erase the  dark cynicism

the parched lungs sway wildly

each breath drenches in happiness

happy to become normal again.

 

SHUSH

Shush, I tell her, she refuses churning out one after another

her pace faster than my groggy walk in the woods

My eyes still not completely awake from slumber

She transports me across time zones, across generations

I am not interested to travel back and forth

I want to be here, in the now

Five decades passed 

and yet she rules me

I wish to be unshackled

Each second, each minute

just soak in the moment

not get entangled like the bushes above

yet thoughts do not leave me

and I walk back the trail

thoughts settled like the morning mist.

PURPOSE

Aims, goals, plans, timetables
every word of purpose rooted
in every nook of my maternal house.

Childhood broom sweeps
but they come crawling back
to my beaming parents who
navigate them to me and my sibling.

Teen years slammed many a door
at those disgusting words then
yet they found their resting cot.

Youth conquered me
and slid them farther away
Every tiny achievement then
was a new wrapper for my ego.

Evading immigrations
my goals sneaked into
my dwelling in this country.

My occasional grey sprouting
hair do not miss
their conscious stare.

On days when my moods swing me
a friendly tug of goals whispers
"It's all right, you can do it again."

My present goals are only for my eyes
Tiny pleasures, whenever achieved
A treat, I strive to earn each day.

FUSION

 Shalini, a name synonymous with courtesy and modesty

She, a true depiction of unassuming simplicity

Hasn't even been  a year since l  met

yet feel her radiating warmth every time 

she is around.

Avneesh, the other name of Lord Ganesh 

or earth's caretaker

With open doors he welcomes

be it new year's eve or Holi.

His eternal hospitality is what

we all vouch for.

Both wedded into a 

harmonious blend of bliss and joy.

Privileged are those children 

born to such  beautiful parents,

blessed are those friends 

who found their companionship

fortunate are we all  to be a part of 

this beautiful day of their lives.

A lovely pair who illuminated 

all of our lives

his poems and affectionate smile,

her mouth sacking dishes and  self

determination to be on her own.

Wonder what other treasures 

will the intellectual  duo 

unravel on a sojourn 

we passengers wish to travel 

on their journey of a life time.

No wonder their lives are 

so intertwined,

His name ending in

the same syllable to begin hers,

Avneeshalini.

SHADES OF HAPPINESS

The tinge of rainbow colours on faces  

still poignant, scrubbing hard to scrape away each hue 

matching the setting sunrays on a cold Holi evening.

An invisible attire of  deep coloured love 

splashed on  milky white dresses

a colour no designer can create

an apparel no brand can put a tag on.

The  privileged washbasin mingled

with colours of  grey smiles and  bear hugs, 

The bathroom mirror envying the 

plastered smiles.

Blended  in each Indian's heart

the pink giggles, the green grins

pavements soaked in shades of yellow

drains spilling of red and pink

the wafting aromas and 

the dripping white laughter.

Colours do not brighten our lives

but love sprayed on near and dear ones.

Let us wish to be that  bright pigment

and lather away mankind's bleak stain of sorrows.

STENCH

soul's eye stench 

in carcass of social media

eyes in each picture

and post parched for 

innumerable sights

of likes.

THE TROTTING HUMAN

 Rumi ~ "Not the ones speaking the same language, but the ones sharing the same feeling, understand each other.

Every mother craves for the first utterance of her offspring,

at crawling pace words multiply, vocabularies enrich, 

sentences get knotted to convey racing thoughts.

Then every emotion, every object gallops 

for a label in not one but myriads of languages.

Yet every one feels capsized in the flood of alphabet 

eyes incessantly foraging for lifelines

to spill the feelings of the heart.

Languages mount on us stooping our backs 

we crouch yearning for the song of silence

groping for the sharing neigh that soothes our souls.

Is it a co-homosapien who soaked in dialects 

and languages offers us a caring ear,

or the four legged animals some, 

whom we tame for our companionship,

or the birds who perch on the sill

or the all pervading nature?

Usually a sheer spousal nod tranquilizes my aching feelings, 

the warm clasp of friends an assuring comfort at times

but many a time my agitated nerves crave for 

 a feel which is tender and 

where language becomes obscure.

IDENTICAL IDENTITY

Why not wrap the cloak of  harmony and exfoliate our egos

with soothing ointment of peace present in each human heart?

Let us scrape the epidermis of anger 

and wrap the visible clingfilm of amicability.

Why crave for amassing lands and regions,

when each one of us just needs few inches 

to be mingled with earth one day.

When will  we learn from the infant 

who gets up and walks in spite of innumerable falls.

Isn't it time we too try to provide a hand of love,

each time someone tumbles.

How can we change costumes each day

and not gift Mother earth a new colour of peace?

Incessant wars have drenched it red.

Let us all scrub and vow never to let

a single skirmish of blemish appear on her.

Why not try to erase the painful borders 

of nationality, religion and country in our head

and just accept each other as human?

How does it matter, if I am brown or black or  white,

the colour of blood oozed is the same,

I too feel warmth in my heart, when cared for 

and so do you.

INCHES

The word family meanders course with every turn

me and my sister listened in daze anecdotes

of the rustic fun dad had with his siblings

and mum's warmly braided growing years with hers.

 

My daughter's ears are now filled with

immature catfights of my childhood,

the three year vacuum in my heart 

when my sister wed.

A new family of in laws, brother in laws

became a part of me as I and  my soulmate

later embarked a joint innings.

There were crevices and hills 

yet each pit and each summit 

was crossed with the 

cloak of family gear.

If ever I find myself stripped of the warmth 

of enriched family lifestyles 

I would be left with no armour to face  life.

Any inch of emotional or mental bruise 

of my five decades was stitched with family support.

Blessed am I to pass on these close knit traditions

to my daughter of  sixty three inches.