Monday, 28 April 2014

Moony and Granny (dida)

Moon, the lovelorn fool;
Round and happy,
Covered in pockmarks,
Veiled in whisps of smokey clouds;
Looks down, reflecting the Sun,
Its light, glowing white and cool,
Making poets stare and sigh,
Making lovers' blood boil like tides.
To me it looked like silver.
A round, smooth coin,
My dida had drilled a hole in it,
Put a dark thread through it,
And tied it round my hips.
I remember feeling it,
Cool and soft, on my belly.
Like the skin on dida's cheeks.
She said, an old woman lived there.
Making thread and singing songs.
Tonight, I thought I saw her there.
And, she looked like dida,
Dressed in widow's whites.
The breeze when it blew by me,
Smelled of the talc that dida used.
The Moon, grinned at me and winked;
I laughed too and blew a kiss,
Changed gears and drove on.

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