Monday, October 19, 2009

836 : Trading Tales

We stare at the wavy kites through the smoked glass,
Wisps and curls emanating from your coffee mug,
You chronicle your saga at the morning yoga class,
Me…. I regale you with my old boy’s humbug.

We spoke about that one day when the sun didn’t shine,
And I recalled the swagger and doff of two bottles of wine,
The steaming coffee reminded us of a lightness of being,
Blinded by our baggage, believing is seeing.

Amidst our laughter, I still hear your voice and talk,
Listening to the rhyme, the verse and the sum,
A tiny little prayer escapes towards the rock,
Can this please  be the harbinger of days to come  ?

(inspired by an old memory trapped in the recesses of my innards…)

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