Tuesday, April 3, 2012

My Name Is

She changes her name often to run and hide
But is still found and is beautiful to me
Someone tell her she is missed
The seasons change and so does she
This is that time when the flowers blossom
And spread the scent and feeds the bee
Unfortunate my hope is alone
Can't get to write a happy tune
The rainbow and the wooly cloud brings some relief
But who would clean up this gloom
A bird perches on the cloth line; she is singing a fine tune
Does she have a message?
Or is she too happy to care for me
How does one punish oneself and atone?
Years of sins to clean
Should I change my name
But would she look for me


Anonymous said...

Someone tell him he is missed too! It feels great to be the "she" of one's poems. Am kind of jealous of her. I don't like this type of poetry though.
How's everything going,old friend? I would talk to you if I knew how.(araS)

Kamal Sharma said...

Time has past fast Sara but I love the thought of She. More grey and diminishing desires for material things... she is beautiful... life is good.