Women,
Ma
They say she refused to wear jewellry
and to comb her hair
And when there were rumours of a ghost in the neighbourhood
they called her to keep it away
I could not meet her then
And though I look for her --
inside the cracks of non-stop conversations,
under the silence she leaves at the other end of the phone --
I know its too late
When now she asks me to comb my hair
and wear some jewellry.
Si
The other day when I heard her voice
I mistook it for mine
But when she smiles I know its her
Because her smile is prettier
They say she refused to wear jewellry
and to comb her hair
And when there were rumours of a ghost in the neighbourhood
they called her to keep it away
I could not meet her then
And though I look for her --
inside the cracks of non-stop conversations,
under the silence she leaves at the other end of the phone --
I know its too late
When now she asks me to comb my hair
and wear some jewellry.
Si
The other day when I heard her voice
I mistook it for mine
But when she smiles I know its her
Because her smile is prettier
3 Comments:
Hey Seens,
Glad ur brain is alive again... meaning ur blogging once more!:) Fantastic stuff! A bit too profound for me though... admittedly...:)
i read an adrianne rich poem on marie curie yesterday. this reminded me of it somehow...
reminds me of a book i read while in school the story was titled "My mother is the most beautiful women in the world".
i still do believe in it, i am glad i found someone who feels the same.
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