Wayward curls shine in silver
New strands each day I see 
Nothing will ever stop these waves
From greying furiously  

Why then be lost in troubled thoughts 
And hurry those tides of white 
Breathe in and breathe out instead
Let little things delight 
 
Sing of the joys of nascent spring
Dance to a happy summer song 
Paint trees in burnished gold 
Spin tales of leprechauns

Embrace brazen winds that breeze
The earth that holds well-walked feet 
The canopy of light and dusky night 
Where the sun and the moon come to meet 

No tarot reading
No fortune teller 
No crystal ball I see 
Why riddle the eyes with endless thoughts....
What shall be, shall be

I go back in time
as I get a whiff of some familiar scent.

Like the aroma of spices from my mother’s pulao —- the blend of bay leaves, cinnamon, black cardamom and cloves
that left eyes sparkling in anticipation of a royal meal.

Or the scent of fruits
that made their way into my lunch at school - bananas, apples, grapes, oranges
along with an embroidered napkin
that held onto the smell of the season, the love of parents and the comfort of home.

The tanginess of lemons in my father’s cologne —- a burst of summer every time I opened his closet.

The fragrance of roses from incense sticks that my grandmother would light as she prayed —
the mysticism of life in her folded hands.
The smoke would rise from the sticks, curling, to reach heaven along with her prayers -
and I would look upward wondering if God could hear her songs and smell the roses.

The heady scent of rain and earth as we played in puddles
walking and slipping
splashing and laughing
lost in the moment
hearts as light as those drops of rain.

A whiff of these and I travel back in time
I miss the innocence
and melange of those
happy scents and aromas.

It seems like a different world.
And though far away —
It seems like yesterday.

we remember the moments of life,
the birth and the passage of time
it's like sunrise and the day
but can we forget the sunset
For it is the constant like everyday
Can we forget the death in anyway
For it is the truth for every life
can we neglect it, never consider it
Follow the goldrush, live with a lie
It's more common than we know
It's in our ancestory, every tribe and country
The rise and fall comes to all
But why does it feel not yet
till we are all but gone.

there are not enough words there to articulate
but listen closely to what I am about to say
I feel crushing pangs of sadness inside my heart
and there is no fathomable cause for it to hurt
There is nothing that is so deeply wounding in life
I am solemnly waiting, for answers for my feelings
Contemplating how to piece and what to change
The thoughts go everywhere, solution out of range.

I sit in front of my work and phone screen glaring my eyes,
My fingers move on their own, a restless, scrolling guise.
I tried to keep timers, to all apps I hold dear,
To see what I do, what amuses me here.
But I sit not still, the urge to scroll takes hold,
My fingers dance on glass, a story to unfold.
I always see that precious time has slipped away,
I know it's not, but guilt begins to sway.
Why am I addicted, to this digital life's gleam?
A mirror of some place, a fabricated dream.
But I am distracted, from where I truly stand,
Why do I wish to be, in some far-off fictional land?
For every ten seconds, my patience starts to fray,
An I saving time, or giving it away
Why do I let my mind, so easily stray?
My control is dwindling, a battle I can't win,
The screen's bright allure, pulling me back within.