Skip to main content

Beautiful...forever

I cannot promise you that I will be the best thing that will happen to you. Life is not a never ending circus, it has its ups and downs. And between the shows, I have heard that there is much hard work. When the curtains go up, i will be your favorite clown, dancing around you and trying to make you laugh.  And when the lights are down, I will be there to tend to your swollen feets, massage your shoulders and wash away your makeup. I will make your bed and hush you to sleep. And I will always find you beautiful.

Comments

  1. Aww, so cute :-).

    That IS the best thing that could happen to someone :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for the visit. Glad that you liked it

      Delete
  2. very beautiful thought

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hush

You don't have to tell me. I just know. Its that little sniffle that comes through The unexplained pauses The slow responses I know when you call Just because you needed to cry.

That Fluttering of Broken Wings

If you were to cross the road and hurt your toe, I know that I will never know. As we go on to take different roads and move on across different shores, there is something that happens to our relationships. Something that estranges, disconnects, disintegrates. I know that you still think of me. I know this because I find myself thinking about you. And thoughts rarely get seeded on their own. It comes from you to I and from I to you until one of us is alive. Old relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.