If colour was rich,
You’d be chasing rainbows.
Endlessly seeking,
A flickering pot of gold.
Fire was your name,
Insatiable and alive.
Your candle burned bright,
Yet went up in trailing smoke.
Writings of a Phobophobe.
If colour was rich,
You’d be chasing rainbows.
Endlessly seeking,
A flickering pot of gold.
Fire was your name,
Insatiable and alive.
Your candle burned bright,
Yet went up in trailing smoke.
Like sunrise,
I’d trust you lead and shine light.
I’d have no fear in the darkest of nights.
Like waves,
You’d lift me, bring me along, or to shore.
Cyclical, rhythmic, calm and more.
Like rain,
You’re okay to let me see your mess,
Dream with me for rainbow even when chances are less.
Like sunset,
We’d hold space for us to unwind.
Even when you’re not the brightest, I wouldn’t mind.
Stashed away,
Like an old toy in the attic —
A forgotten classic;
An all-time favourite.
We learnt life without it,
When reality got in the way.
It’s time for a shift!
They got into the attic,
Found this dusty toy,
Unrecognisable from it once was —
An embarrassing reality,
Yet remains precious in memory.
Momentous —
An exchange of oranges and reds
Between manes of black, white and grey;
Happiness —
An exchange of blues and yellows
through greens, pinks and violets.
As if diving into the sea
While a fighter jet flew by with uncertainties.
As if the conductor raised his hand
And the orchestra of worries halted.
He seemed to be her sense of peace,
Calming to the point she could hear her heart racing —
Unsure if it’s from the anxious thoughts.
Or the sheer presence of him.
Amidst scents of flowers,
He was greenery.
Sunday afternoons
Love was the best scenery.
Scattered mass;
Glorious mess.
Towering strongholds —
The only grasp of reality.
There’d be bad times.
There’d be good times;
There’d be some after your dime;
There’d be ones that last a lifetime.
You’ve forgotten how to love.
You’ve forgotten your own worth.
Suppressing your needs for another,
At her beck and call.
Money, time and pride
You gave it all.
The beauty of love,
Is that it is mutual.
I’d show you,
If you’d love anew.
Life without a dime,
Deemed society’s crime.
You’ll be a mere mime,
In a race against time.