The Breeze Kissed Me...

From the green hills beyond, it came, a whispering dancing trail and kissed me am sure, I touched my cheek and found its moist mark..fluttering my clothes, playing with my perfume, my hair it's toy! The lightening of my heart, the gladness and the blush on my cheek, the breeze kissed me am sure :)

Wisps of Smoke

Wisps of smoke
And the dark of the night
Now I see them now I don't
But they are
Against the velvety night
And the hard light
Grey, diaphanous?
Or iridescent.. silver, golden even?
They are.
Both.

Hurt

How deeply can you get hurt?
Are there layers?
How deep within?
Is each successive layer softer
Easier to crush
More vulnerable?
How would you know?
Is hurt measured in the hotness of tears?
How many times they were shed or when?
Is it measured at how sharp it is
Or how deep it is?
Are there layers?
Let's not talk about the core
But the hurt probably has layers
Like a rose bud cut with a knife
Petal by petal

Hues of the Rainbow..

We debate if this is the real world or that is
Wise ones say it is what you believe it is
(I could question their wisdom)
But what's the point
The question remains unanswered..

The many hues of the rainbow are pretty
Not just the blues and the yellows
But also all the ones in-between

Shall I clasp it with both hands
(and risk the discovery, it isn't)
Or continue with the belief it's within reach..
Not just a mirage or an illusion
But solid as iron rods
The question remains unanswered..