SILVERTOWN

Came tangled in ribbons and bows:
Unwrapped, nothing pretty.

Took a while to unpack -
had gathered much, left little.
Excess baggage.

Alibis I had aplenty,
rants I could rent a minute,
prejudice offered comfort.
The pocket was a forgotten corner:
Proud and petulant,
I rivalled the prisoner of Chillon.

Drenched, cloaked, vacant,
stumbled upon spring - it sprinted by.
Summer stoked the senses -
they were damned.

Freedom meant chains. They held me tight.
Company is strange:
The long, dry spell fell in step
with the winding way.

A stranger surfaced,
from a place past -
where the wind whispers, the chimes waltzed.
Rummaged through the rubble, she seemed familiar -
she was me.

Shook hesitant hands -
traded an unsure curl of the lip.
An angel played broker:
A nudge here, a word there -
go, go, go: Be.
A smile drawn across nothing.

Reacquainted, we set out to piece:
The known with the new.
Designs drawn on sand,
bathed in mercy:
Washed away, and anew.
Faith strung on a wire -
worn, weathered.
Kites of fancy - flown, cut and amended.
Bowls of broth, plates of warmth:
Trust shall never gather rust.

Words to work with,
tunes to trumpet,
grass carpets to tip-toe on, flowers to steal -
a thought to chew,
spell-bound by skewer and smoke,
a pregnant dream, images to make.
Wide open spaces, to guard and share.
Laughter, unchained;
the moment, again, is mine.

The mind is a monkey, a trick keeps it ticking.
Bread is baked, botched.
One sleeps only with the soul:
To keep it together, you've got to leave it alone.

Delhi:

We belong.