THE JOURNEY.

Frail, tired, withered and old .....

Resting on a limb

He reached out

For a moment to hold

A vague memory of

Youthful glory

Still lingering in

The faded wrinkles.

Then letting go

With quiet resignation

He continued with gravity

Till he was one

With

From whence he had sprung.

Colored Pains

The warmth of the setting sun
Slipped in through the glass
Of the doorway of the past .
To rock his chair a little gently
Setting in motion his dalliance
With the colorful shadows of Memories.


Green.
The firmness of grapes
Ripening a little
Juicy but tart.
Her favorite fruit.


Yellow.
A burst of Summer
Tinting the gossamer wings
Of flitting butterflies.
The glow on her joyous face.


Blue .
A meandering river
Reflecting the clear skies
With pleats of clouds.
The six yards of her sari.


White.
Brilliant and lethal.
Dazzling beams of
An errant headlight.
Her pallid face drained with fear.

Red.
A traditional dot.
Marking her love
For him eternally.
Washed away by the growing trickle. ...............


The rhythm of the chair
Came to a standstill
As the colors seeped out
From under the doorway
Along with the setting sun.