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Tuesday, July 1, 2008

On my way home, I saw...

Two figures approach an impatient car
that breathed hot exhaust,
motioning for egress.
He stood gray--
Her sari, layers of spice.

Wavy black locks captive
While he bent to kiss her face,
Steely grief slammed the door, airtight.
She remained, watching him leave,
hand over her heart.

The car foreshortened as
She wiped her face of tears.
Her saffron pallu waved, lifted,
took flight
And because I had no place to hide
I saw her no more.
at

2 comments:

To live in the presence of great truths and eternal laws, to be led by permanent ideals--that is what keeps a man patient when the world ignores him, and calm & unspoiled when the world praises him.
Honoré de Balzac