Golden Tureen


Dipping palms into the blazing pot

Simmering on the horizon

I poured myself two cupfuls

Of light~


Warmth gradually

Stole the chill

From my bones and

Chatter from my teeth~


All shaken and frazzled

From the banshee winds

Screeching murder

All night~


Shivering curtains

Had simply upped and given

Up their fight, lights followed

Suit, had spluttered and died~


Drawing achy knees

Close to my chest

I’d rocked myself to sleep

Singing old ditties whole night~


Empty nesters hoard family albums

On credenzas and portraits on walls

Cold comfort that when a mere loving

Hug could have sufficed~


Life has to be lived best way possible

Stiff upper lip, head held high

Well groomed, cap at jaunty

Angle, feathers flying ~


Sun salutation being traditional

Healing rite and as aging mind wandered

Down ancient caravanserai passes, I self-

Energized by drinking cupfuls of sunlight~

*photograph is by David Parham*


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