Friday, April 20, 2018


On my birthday each year,
he would send me a postcard.
Tiny yellow souvenir
of love, wishes and regards.
For as long as I recall,
my day began with his post.
Red- penned in his usual scrawl
would be the ritual toast.
Now his image stamped, impressed -
blessings from a new address.


Saturday, March 17, 2018


The roller-coaster years,
awash with fear and thrill.
So surreal they appear -
with their flashbacks the soul fills.
A long adventure now ends,
life pauses for a new one.
Surprise waits at the next bend -
change of boots for second run.
Bind your memoirs in a sheaf -
as thieves sigh with a relief.

Monday, February 26, 2018


Virtues seek reciprocal-
gestures vie for approval.
But desires equivocal,
and the fate appears cruel.
You rejoice in the belief
that deeds would be gratified.
Alas! this fancy is brief,
and such futile seems the pride.
The soul has treacherous roots.
And hope is a bitter fruit.