You walk,
this life in your hands
a bunch of flowers, careless but firm.
Your curiosity is led
by sunshine, breeze and rain,
every contemplation a delight of colours.
You have learned so far
only to beckon to the world,
to amass promises, sprout smiles, hold hands.
Your days are a rush of bougainvillea,
your nights archways of sleep,
no weariness of yesterdays in your limbs.
Time’s fruit that you clutch in your fingers
revels in its raw youth, tangy on your tongue.
You have no idea to let it ripen.
Each time I try to tell you of the dark,
your little eyes widen in surprise.
I soothe you, defer life’s betrayal.
My faithless eyes are on your journey.
I pray that I be around to teach you
of storms before they strike.
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at editor@madrascourier.com.
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