Friday, June 14, 2013


Feet dangled, long hair brushed the tiled floor.
When winds whooshed through the windows,
back and forth I swung with outstretched toes.
A purple dawn reigned as the sunlight streamed in.
Nature donned a colourful art piece.
A quiet lake, the hills rolled.
Swing - a pendulum of memories.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

The Violnist

On the bridge of a railway station,
head bowed immersed in music-
violinist in meditation.
Notes hushed in this place awash with human rush.
Most seem unaware of his presence.
Some drop a coin once a week,
and those who pause are his audience.