A dip

The river’s garment,

A shimmer exquisite,

Disturbed.

As was the sky’s skin,

By the sun’s rays.

Ripples that cascade,

By her white cloth, they collide.

Tiny droplets they drip,

From the tip of her nose,

To her aching bosom.

The drapes embrace,

Her painful longing.

Chastity.

Holy waters,

She dips again.

Cleansing off thoughts,

Classified murky.

Washing away desires,

Considered lecherous.

With every sunrise,

They dwindle.

Millions of droplets,

Have fallen,

From the tip of her nose,

now wrinkled,

To her aching bosom,

now sagging.

What of her aching bosom?

Memories of desires they hold, 

of an infant that once feasted, 

of a husband who once rested.

All compounded into earth’s bosom.

****

Inspiration : A picture I saw posted in my company album.

Image source : ibtimes.com

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An evening

An extensive magic canvas, 
Streaks of pink, orange and blue,
Silhouettes of birds flying across the red sun,
By the magic of the enchanting evenings he was awed,
As the cold breeze caressed him, he drew his scarf closer.
The passing  footsteps were not the sound he heard, 
Instead, it was the clank of the coins of alms.
Memorized visions from his childhood,
Was all his blind eyes could see!

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