Friday, December 24, 2010

Pattern ...

An airport with its usual din and bustle,
a city and those same hurry and hustle,
Café Coffee day and
 a small roadside joint;
from here we are propelled
 towards a promising future
with rainbow and an aquamarine horizon.

Just one occasional nagging voice:
sorrow or joy, nothing lasts;
there’s no forever!

A wart
ugly and uneven;
colorless and horrific,
a lump of grief
with secret roots
on an otherwise fair gleaming skin.
The doubt,
the uncertainty,
a raw wound
appalling and fatal
in an else loving relationship.

There’s a thin line between benign and malignant.

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