Moments of Joy

Seasons & People

I didn't entirely enjoy rainy days-

Never wanted my hair frizzy

and shoes dirty

My mother warned me that I'll appreciate it's worth after they are gone

Wasn't fond of winters either-

Never wanted to feel anything cold

and drive through the foggy road

My mother warned me that I'll appreciate it's worth after they are gone

Summers weren't any different-

Never wanted sweat stains on

and step out in the sun

My mother warned me that I'll appreciate it's worth after they are gone

Summer of 2020 was a roller coaster 

We never wanted to ride,

The deadly virus- we fight and hide

Loved ones- my family lost in the blink of an eye

What wouldn't we trade to re-write the summer of 2020

My mother was right- we only appreciate seasons (and people) after they are long gone

Magic

There's something magical about first impressions- like petrichor

The scorching heat has left burns on my fingers;
And a crack on everything I held on to;
Every time I gather the courage to feel the last ounce dampness,
I'm left with shattered pieces of what once stood strong.

Why is 'warmth of heart' associated with comfort?
How should I know the difference between warmth and heat?
What should I do before the flame takes away everything?
Leaving nothing to salvage.

When everything is lost, there's the first raindrop,
Reaching out to everything I once held.
It wasn't the surprise of the first drop that was magical;
Nor the hope of louder showers.

Magic was in the essence it brought;
Rising through my nostrils,
Healing what was once dead,
Renewing everything that once existed.

Creating a first impression once again- just like petrichor

Black & White

Somewhere between biting winters and blazing summers is a spring to delight

Somewhere between bright days and dark nights is the warm colour of twilight

Somewhere between a parched land and unsettled floods are drizzles by the window side

But where is your betwixt and between in

Trust and doubt, 

Hope and despair, 

Integrity and deceit

How conveniently you sneak

Between those 1s and 0s, a million numbers;

Between a yes and no, a cowardly dodge and a hopeless silence;

You plead for a half-way and a middle ground

When all you do is straddle the fence?

Fiction often has a bit of reality,

But never enough to change the genre

A chain of lies and a bit of truth, doesn't alter the extent of certitude 

For those that are extremes, they have no in-betweens.