
Purpose




Unseasonal–
is the soft drizzle, that mists up
my window pane – enveloping
and comforting –as a mother
to her newborn child.
Unseasonal–
when roles are reversed–
wanting, to take foetal position
for yourself – to be cuddled and nursed,
still oblivious to the world of heartache.
Unseasonal–
when Autumn leaves loiter about,
wanting, retrieval of the buds of Spring,
retracing the steps of your youth,
wandering– what you would do differently.
Unseasonal–
though it may seem– rain will come
as it chooses, soft drizzle or pelting hard!
Is it in your stars, the choice or the measure–
or do you just choose to dance in the rain…
wherever and whenever it comes …

It’s past midnight
And sleep remains elusive.
Time keeps ticking, ticking!
You break into a sweat.
What about tomorrow,
And the day after that?
You’ve tried before
To set yourself free,
But you’re tormented
By what you cannot see.
Confusion turns the tides
Of your faltering heart.
Words betray your emotion
In what it has become.
It’s hard to interpret
These immobilising feelings
That are not supposed to be.
Still time keeps ticking, ticking!
The voices inside your head
Grow quarrelsome tonight.
Some say go, others
Tell you not to move,
Each shouting louder
Until you can’t think.
But you alone know:
Something has to end!