1
The morning sun warmed the dew 
from the opening rosebud; 
a bee visited the fragrant heart of the rose; 
the breeze tumbled a petal to the water, 
drifted the pale petal across the surface of the water.
You surprised me gently.
2
I thought – hoped – the emotional baggage
was safely in the locker, 
just for once, 
just overnight, 
but like a Houdini homing pigeon
it came back, 
like a smart missile locked in on thought patterns
it found the target, 
penetrated the armour, 
and suddenly
just after midnight
I knew how Cinderella felt, 
her new world sucked back
through the vortex, 
as the life we call real
returned.                
The sun warmed the breeze tumbled and I was surprised to read such lovely poems thanks sir -10 anjali
Sir you write well...and i love the metaphor of memories like guided missiles..... but you have stopped commenting on my poems...i would love to hear from you once again
This poem speaks to me - I have been the girl on the other end of that gross intrusion of reality. 'but like a Houdini homing pigeon it came back, like a smart missile locked in on thought patterns it found the target, ' This imagery I especially like.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The morning sun warmed the dew from the opening rosebud; a bee visited the fragrant heart of the rose; the breeze tumbled a petal to the water, drifted the pale petal across the surface of the water. You surprised me gently. the best love story i've ever read! i salute you, sir...