Friday, December 30, 2011

something idyllic

There are evenings
hidden in the closet of memories
a fragrant smell of the
faint dry winters
and incense stick
and of prayers
with whispering voice of grandmother

Of memories at home
of childhoods
refusing to let go

And then there are you
walking by me like a moment unadorned
like a night
moonless
of a thousand fireflies

where I sit by the river
calm yet enchanted
and you
.. you walk and draw a ripple in the silent night waters
becoming a quaint white shadow
of me
and sometimes
my home

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