waiting
for the cocoon to open ...
in vain
my dream butterfly
turns out to be a moth
stumbled
with my wooden sandals
groping a moonray
in the less-trodden path
of your wooden heart
chopsuey dinner...
Mr. Chopstick, the waiter
chopping
the big chop of porkchop
overlapping my plate
our altar vows
of sharing bed and bread
and the toothpaste …
pressed empty by your longings
will you also take my toothbrush?
looking
through the crystal ball
the third eye
blinks to unblur its vision
from a grain of sand
working for hours
on a bundle of files
coffee break time:
to break the monotony
i took a cup of tea
