I sit here,
Basking in half a moon,
Thinking of you occasionally,
Nursing the contents of Tom Collins,
Amidst, fifty three coconut grooves.
Incomplete heavenly object,
Reflections of my past……!,
Just like you,
Bright on borrowed light,
Dark half is my ignorance,
For you are complete,
The spots, mark of your individuality,
Might, bother a bystander.
For I am a part of you now,
A part of the spot,
The light and the sightseer.
Knowledge, faints fantasy,
Dream and pleasure.
Laws of the universe,
Aren’t good enough to buy me solace.
How I fight to believe in what I wish.
Romance is of course a romance,
One could call it blatantly a lie, a fantasy,
It does give life, a day, the moment, an event a purpose.
For me today half a moon is a purpose,
To find the rest.
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1 comment:
The moon is a balloon...
let me not puncture it...
Athough you might have done better...
with a Planter's Punch...
sitting in your farm...
Mr. Brown Sahib...
or maybe...
the Collins...
Has turned you into...
an Uncle Tom...hmm
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