The Vision

I see you through a shiny mist that covers the trees in the woods,

much like the coy bride hiding herself behind a veil of Chantilly lace,

glimpses of you through wreaths of white, an ethereal vision in green,

framed in the protective wisps of the mighty mythical dragon’s breath.

Your soft shiny hair blows behind you like a supernatural cape of dark black,

the raven’s eyes could hardly be darker than those curled tendrils of your locks,

that seem to have taken a life of their own, as they each vie, tumble and fall,

in glorious profusion like the vines that vie to reach the treetops of the forest.

Sunlight glints off the down on your arms like diamonds sparkle in the water,

as you whirl them about you in merry abandon like an innocent child at play,

a giant dragon fly’s colourful wings they seem to be as they let you take flight,

gliding through the meadow seemingly carried by the swift tumbling breeze.

Your laugh teases me as it leads me stumbling on through the maze of trees,

a seeker still in pursuit of a truth that has already revealed itself in a vision,

guiding me onwards as I seek to chase and catch the dream that runs ahead,

peals of a mystical bell as they tinkle through the stalks of gentle wavy grass.

Your long lissome gliding legs seem to have taken root from the very earth,

as they carry you further and further onward from me, but just a bend ahead,

teasing, tantalizing, the proverbial mirage that keeps moving farther as I reach it,

the green shoots brush your calves as you spring as a fawn, out of my reach.

The glimpses I get of your eyes hold me spell bound in their perfection,

ponds of grayish green in which I am desperate to dive and drown myself,

the lashes the gates of paradise that hold the secrets of your soul from me,

veils that part to let my seeking sight peek into the depths of limpid green.

Your slender form an exquisite stalk that sways keeping pace with the breeze,

carried on the peals of your broken laughter like the brook that tinkles through,

as you keep running away from me, leaving me clutching vapours in your trail,

as I run breathlessly from pillar to post to keep you in sight of my parched eyes.

I wake in a cold sweat and I realize that you were but a vision in emerald,

my chimera in jade, a part of my alternate reality, a world for only you and me,

in our wood undisturbed by concrete intrusions of the everyday world,

where one day I will surely find you in your shaded bower of aquamarine.

Memories on a Highway

The breeze rustles through my hair and reminds me of everything about you;
It's gentle touch a poignant memory of another day, a whisper of a promise true;
A rising excitement and a sense of a purpose tinted by an unexplained tinge of blue;
As I sit here at the wheel lost in my dreams wondering what has become of you.

I remember your head on my shoulder, your hair whipping around the both of us;

And your warm hand clasped in mine, my one true anchor, a bedrock in my sea;

Your unique smell envelopes me, a tang that fills me in a way I cannot express,

At that moment and forever more, there is no other place that I rather would be.

As those softly closed lashes opened to reveal eyes that hold me in their warmth,

And your lips curved into the start of a beautiful smile that brightened up my world,

There was a sense of true belonging in me, a place of comfort, my home and hearth,

As I gripped your soft hand tight lest I was carried away in the emotions that swirled.

The playful breeze lifts up my mood, its buoyancy helped by the panorama that I view,

As I speed up and let the wind rock me back and blow my thoughts out of my head,

I know you are happy where you are and that makes me happier in my thoughts of you,

And I speed down this endless highway, heading nowhere in particular, just straight ahead.

Loneliness

He stands in the middle of the bustling, pushing and shoving crowd,

alone in the midst of a tumultuous sea of noise, cushioned by elbows,

his loneliness a an invisible cloak that surrounds as he stands head bowed,

even as he is living, breathing and animate, no sign of it even shows.

His mind numbed in it’s isolation, suspended in a sheer black vacuum,

unseeing, unfeeling and emotionally desolate even as it hangs,

senses unwilling and unable to react to any assault that may come,

the silence in his parched soul echoes with the screams of his pangs. 

His hands that once sought the comfort of warm flesh of company,

now lie in his lap gnarled and twisted, reaching like banyan roots,

his body shies away from human touch in a shrieking cacophony,

just as he shuts himself to the all around him - voices, cackles and hoots.

He is now so used to his being alone that he feels alien in society,

stuck in the rut of his habit, a routine that now defines his existence,

he now imagines his friends, his mind drunk on it’s lonely eventuality ,

the wraiths appear, feeding on his insulation, creating their sustenance.

He has forgotten the art of speech, the ability to express and communicate,

his own feelings so bottled up inside him that he is now completely numb,

cannot understand another’s words or emotion, he cannot even replicate,

stilted in his speech and halting in his expression, he is a speaking dumb.

Now he walks, solitary in his path, no echo answers his untiring stride,

his stare fixed at the ground beneath his feet, unmindful of all around,

the weariness of his seclusion a badge of honor he wears with pride,

his quarantine a reassurance, a faith irresolute that abounds.