Monday, 18 April 2016

Poet, My Life

A long winding route to life
only half-visible to fate,
She moulds patient dreams
By night, moment by moment
By day, my pursuit of happiness.

She curves, returns, dances herself
into still-fragrant-bygone nooks,
My poet, this lonesome road
Gathers permutations of daily occurrence
To fashion melancholy probabilities,

Tales of a thousand and one nights,
Throwing gauntlets to memory, loss and pain
Clever-sparrow quests for endless grain
Sixty four squares squared again and again

She wrote my book and read it to me

That which is never read twice

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