Birthday of a Poem

Birthday of a Poem

She opens her eyes some days rubbing her eyes,

On soothing 9am mornings laden with birds and dew.

Lying beside those distant blurred stars,

With some precious and escaping thoughts.

Her soul, entwined with dancing steps,

Soars up rocket high and she holds her breath.

She imagines a world on her own terms and her own life,

Shipped to a time across the endless seas.

Her morning voice is like a happy poem, 

Woven by the impatient sky,

That dips the whole world in rain.

In those familiar silent passages, 

Smiles falling from her amber face.

And on her favorite cloudy days,

There’s a crescendo rising up inside her.

And just then like a forgotten habit, 

She mimics the fluttering window curtains, 

And laughs while listening her self-composed tunes.

She clenches on some hope and her fingers harrow her hair,

Her thoughts go back in time - the forgotten school days.

Ploughing the memories she calls her best friends,

She asks, “Why does winter freeze and summer scorch?”

“Why does every day we have to go class?”

For a blink, an unfathomable confusion covers their chin,

And then cold winds caress her dizzy eyes.

Humming and singing each song she listens,

And reciting every word she remembers each incident.

Past memories are well-cherished and ivory white, 

Where I take my words and pass by sometimes.

Then she spreads her wings and thinks of the future, 

It stirs her heart with mixed gloom and glee.

Now for few next moments, everything becomes a memory.

She feels a bit alone with her lost soul, 

 Swimming in a small and closed fishbowl.

She continues driving, headlights focused high,

Stops by a 23-years milestone and she asks some questions. 

Anything, someone, something, anyone?

Where are the answers and who would answer them?

She looks at her phone and it’s getting late,

Puts on her pink dress and favorite yellow shoes.

As she walks out, she gazes into time transfixed.

Old friends come forward to shake their wrinkled hands, 

And it reminds her of the time when she was ten.

When even the exam were simple.

And everyone seemed her very own.

She turns again and takes a step forward.

Listening to the click clack of the just-stopped rain, 

She looks ahead and waves some goodbyes.

Suddenly many people call her name,

And it comes wrapped in melodies like a daily affair.

Each spring, winter, and summer,

She wears that same leafy and pink skirt.

It’s a happy time and she articulates the unknown,

She turns back and tells the world her favorite color.

She glitters all year in gentle sun,

Like a bird sprinkling sunshine mixed with rain.

It wets every open door and closed window pane,

And every inch of different empty rooms.

It’s once again 4am – a stupid and heavy night.

She’s standing in her balcony with sleepy eyes.

She has bought some empty boxes and filled them with herself,

She closes the packages and slips them out of the window.

I had bribed some dreams to chase them before,

And they were standing below her room,
 Fleeing from my deep sleep.

I wake up smiling and look at my phone,

And then I think, maybe, I’ll just write about her.