Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

That's me, knocking at the door

I peeked in her thoughts
Where my room was taking shape.
Prams and cots and disney wallpapers.
Sometimes she planned it blue,
Sometimes a lovely shade of pink.
Occasionally I would hear her sing lullabies,
Rehearsing for impending sleepless nights.
Hear them both find  me a name,
I really loved some, but there's no way I can tell.
They build me a home in their hearts
And I bask in the glory of their love.
The riotous joy that I am,
I laugh at their planning things post my arrival,
Little do they know, I will mess it all.
And on weekends, I find them shopping
Feeders, diapers and clothes,
Their faces aglow with sheer happiness.
A little bundle draped in a pink sheet,
I enter their lives,
Expanding their horizon manifolds.
My mother crying in pain and then in pleasure.
My father looking at me with sheer joy.
Seamlessly, we blend in one embrace,
A happy little family.


10 comments:

  1. Oh, such a delicate, lovely write!
    This line is my favorite:
    I enter their lives,
    Expanding their horizon manifolds.

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  2. Welcome little one...and such a fine introduction!

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  3. Wonderful wordsmithing! Love the alternative perspective.

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    Replies
    1. Wordsmithing ... Wow .. That sounds awesome. Thank you so much.

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  4. There is something so tender and moving about the viewpoint you chose. I love "The riotous joy that I am."

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.