Saturday, December 17, 2005

Spring. . .

last night
we spoke in hushed tones;
words irrelevant
falling intermittently
on our ears
with silence an interlude
devouring words
we wish to hear
the most.
I puckered my lips
and kissed
your flushing cheeks;
your lips broke into a smile
and my world within bloomed
like zephyr on a muggy day,
like child's smile making mother sway,
like death to terminally suffering,
like breath to one drowning, gasping,
like Sufi chants to a mystic,
like chiseled prose to a critic,
like thoughts to a brooding scholar,
like discontent to one who cribs, holler,
like power to those who wield it,
like spring's outbreak on a snow laden field.

© Dan Husain
February 17, 2005


Bohemian said...

nice...i like this place.

Blue Athena said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

beautiful...brilliant...both the last one and this one. it is always a pleasure to read u :)

Michael said...