For all the times

That I reached to you
And you weren’t there,
I pray
That someone else found you
In their solitude,
And YOU gave them your hand.

You are now forgiven.

Picture by twinsfisch (Unsplash)

It’s going to be a good day!

A slight drizzle,

Announcing the arrival of the clouds,
As a full moon sky is besieged with darkness.

Streets boarded for festivities,
Song and dance,
Colour and light,
All a part of this beautiful night.
Feet move and stop and then,
Move and stop again.

Light radiating from a smile,
That stretches from ear to ear;
I walk along these celebrating streets.
Hands waving and welcoming,
Thou’s arrival.
Mardi Gras and make-shift hats,
Now complement a three-piece suit.
Oh, and there are plenty of drinks to go around.
This city; this street will not sleep.
The air is both wet and electric.

Through the crowds,
I reach, outside,
The smoke screen of a loaded restaurant.
From inside, sitting on a table for two,
I get cast a look,
And despite the 1920s,
Not enjoying the luxury,
Of start, stop and pause machines,
All else comes to a halt.
Just two smiles parted by a smoke screen.

Just then, a yawn announces morning,
To a shoebox called home.
‘Today is going to be a good day’.

Picture by Brigitte Tohm (Unsplash)

In a Bathtub

I am inside the hot bubble bath

Up until my chin
covered in soft lather.
My toes and fingers white and wrinkled,
with each fluid atom
Rolling across my body
Likes waves along the shore.

And then, I was consumed with pain.

A sudden gush of pain
Rising from my stomach
and right through my head.

Drowning in the grime of my body
I panted for breath.
Alas, there was no help!

I quickly pulled the drain stopper,
And waited as the grime settled onto my body.
Quiet and calm, I regained some strength,
Touched the white edges of the tub
with my fingers,
And closed my eyes again.
This is how it will end!

When it does, I will be covered in grime.
My wrinkled body losing
Control of itself.
And there will be no one to
witness me going away,
Grain by Grain
through the drain.

But, I will have my solitude
by my side.
Like the coldness of the empty tub,
Like the sludge and froth sticking to the skin,
When everything else is flushed.

Picture by Naomi August (Unsplash)