March 30, 2012

Illusions


It often happens, when he is at a party with friends,
or when he is sitting in a bar nursing a drink,
and all he finds himself wanting, is for her to walk in through the door.
He feels that the moment she walks in, everything will be all right !

There is so much that he feels like telling her -
How no one else is as good as she is.
How their love is more important to him, than anything else.

Yet, he is also aware of how susceptible to illusions, we all are.
And the most disturbing part is how often,
we let our illusions become our most important beliefs.


March 26, 2012

Footprints

When the weather is warm, she puts talcum powder in her shoes,
and when she removes them, her footprints remain on the floor,
traces of her on the carpet, which stop suddenly, like a trail gone cold.



March 24, 2012

Wishful Thinking

They were walking together, lost in their own thoughts,
when he moved close to her, stroked her hair and took her hand.
She forgot where she was, or even what time it was;
All she was conscious of was his hand in hers, his gentle murmurs in her ears.

Suddenly she had this feeling that everything was as it should be
and nothing, nothing, could add to this happiness and contentment.
This was all that there was, and all that could be.
The best of everything had accumulated in this moment.

It could only have been love !


March 22, 2012

Pale Blue Eyes

He loved taking her out to restaurants and parties, to openings and exhibitions.
He would sit and watch her looking at the pictures.
He took pleasure in her pleasure, as he led her around the city.
Wherever they went, she was his refuge, his pocket of light.

But these new pleasures extracted from her a familiar world,
and pushed her into an intimidating one - overwhelming her at times.
There was too much of him, too many times, in too many places.
We all want love, but not at the expense of losing ourselves.





March 19, 2012

The Dream

There was a time, when she had been tempted by the dream of self sufficiency.
A small flat, a cat, books, TV, music, a dope plant, friends to dinner;
A museum on Sunday, followed by a bus ride to the end of the route
with one of her nephews or nieces.
Alone, but not lonely.

She understands the temptations of self sufficiency -
the idea that she can secure everything she needs within,
that her own caresses can be as loving and as touching as another's.
But she is older and wiser now - she won't be seduced so easily again.


March 15, 2012

Summer Nights

Summer was around the corner, and she had a special ritual of getting into bed on summer nights.

She would first take a cool refreshing bath, and change into her white night clothes.
Just before she lay down, she would take a long deep breath, like a skin-diver.
Very slowly she stretched one leg, than the other, first one arm, then the next,
slowly letting out her breath in a long comforting sigh,
and then collapse onto the smooth sheets with delicious abandon.
Lazily, she would uncurl her fingers and toes, so that they, too, were completely relaxed.

"Like a cat", he would always remark, smiling, "A small lazy cat !"















- Cry the peacock

March 9, 2012

Journey II

He had spent much of his youth, reading.
In the house they now shared, he had thousands of books
and was familiar with all the writers, composers and painters.

But she couldn't sit, or read, or write or do nothing,
without seeking company,
never having been taught the benefits of solitude.

The compromise they reached was this:
when she read he would lie beside her,
watching her eyes, sighing as her fingers turned a page.


March 5, 2012

Journey

They got on the train and sat together, kissing lightly.
As the train pulled away, she took out her Nietzsche tome and began to read.
Turning to the man at her side. she became amused by his face.

Removing her gloves,
she picked shaving cream from his ears,
sleep from his eyes and
crumbs from his mouth,
while laughing to herself.

She was always charmed by the combination of his vanity, mixed with unconscious naivety.


March 2, 2012

Mornings

She would lie on the floor beside his desk and watch him work.
She said she envied that he had something important to do every morning.
His sense of purpose made her feel left out.

What she never knew, was how he envied her freedom.
She would wake up every morning and wonder what she felt like doing -
Would it be dancing, pottery or a walk ?
She went to parties on the beach and in warehouses.
She played and sang in a group, and dedicated all her songs to him.
Not yet having acquired the glossy indifference of busy women in the city,
She would talk to people on the street and felt responsible for them.

If he could just let go of his ego - he, him and himself.