Archive for January 4, 2017


​a silly schmaltzy scribble … 



you may fly away ever so far, leaving me wounded, tending yet another fresh scar.


you may look past me, choosing not to see me at all, as I pick myself up from still another fall.


you may not know me, our gaze destined never to meet, while I dream of our paths crossing, the lucky happenstance of seeing you walking down your street.


you may not know the feelings that I hide, tucked away neatly on the inside, still I will be as faithful as the coming in of the tide …

​won’t you … ?


allow me to take your hand in mine, fingers kneading, knotted, wrinkled, from teasing out too many a paltry rhyme, somewhat scarred from the scraping of passing time.


we may walk a while, distilling the essence of love, far away from this time, hand in hand, epochs away from the polythene grandstand.


we have seen so much, seen it all it sometimes feels, holding on to sanity, just barely grasping onto a filament of hope, when all seemed bleak, when life splintered and felt far too much to cope.


won’t you let me take your hand in mine, far beyond mere words, long past mouthed vows, sharing the silence of weary travellers, who may have seen so much before, and yet persist, hoping, always hoping for a kernel of substance at the core.


won’t you take my hand in yours, it’s yours to take and to hold, away from this bazaar where feelings are traded as commodities, bargained over, casually bought, and callously sold.


we shall share pristine moments, shutting out the passing parade, fleeing from the boulevards of excess, as far away from the fickle charade.


won’t you take my hand in yours, allowing me to take yours in mine, knowing the pathway may be littered with nettles, and knowing this too, that we will always have each other, when the storms pass, when the dust settles.


won’t you … ?