The Scent Of Love

 

I love the melting of

wings, the way stars

arc into darkness and

the shadows of leaves;

they hover, deepen

and drop; a hallelujah

of color covering the

ground. It's the same

rush as falling in love,

the same play of light

and scent of a lover's

skin. In the afterglow

of dusk they find things

to love. Like them I bind

myself with impetuous

energy to the dance of

a tiny flame.

 

 

A Gentle Rain

 

There is no panacea

for my worried spirit

except for the warm

isles inside my heart

where every hope is

crystallized like white

silk or a glass flower.

Shyness hides me away

from the unroofed world

of cold sunlight and mercy

drips like a gentle rain.

When it passes a dry

whisper comes and the

golden evening gleams

with God for the sun.

 

 

Place Of Dreams

 

Your soft greeting

was an echo of what

it used to be, so quiet

and still; the only other

sounds were the sighs

of casuarinas as they

swept the sky clean.

Just after nightfall in

my place of dreams

I hear the hushed tone

of your voice knowing

nothing can ever undo

the silver thoughts of

our love before I bed

my soul in the unbroken

evening.

 

 

Bobbi Sinha-Morey