Lolling on a rocking chair
some memories tried to mist away.
I caught some reveries limping on a crane,
Some creaked of paper cut & pain.
But who’s to say,
Things get blurred beyond thick glasses and fur.
The book grew older with me
Soft edges & wrinkle, smelling of antiquity.
Inglenook grows dimmer.
Windows bring in chill.
But whom to call? What to whisper?
When silken curtains shine,
Folded skins are often unattended by.
Of all the memoirs close to this frayed heart,
‘The kiss’ is precious to me.
At 14 had my first wine,
and she savoured it through me.
For miles we ran,
Sketchbooks and Lego behind the back.
An empty bottle in hand,
I pretended to be the great highwayman
Soon, fate called the cards
and childhood lovers drifted apart.
Both got married and lived the humble life,
and now she is back, 14 and alive.
A sudden jerk!
My lady takes the ethereal form.
I wipe off the saliva with my white handkerchief
Start rocking, preparing for another sleep.
There, she visits again and again
14 and young
My wits make up stories
Catharsis, repression all in one.
I rock a little more to get off the film,
But who’s to know? Who’s to care?
The obscure man’s extinguished love affair.