Poems

Album

Your hand plays with your hair.
Your hair plays across your face.
Your eyes are two bewitching rubies,
rubies my heart longs to play with.

The next picture has you sat beside me,
two children playing 'ghosts'.
Sometimes our hands grip.
Sometimes our arms touch.

In the next picture, you say to yourself,
'Perhaps we weren't ever meant to play together'.
But I say, 'It wasn't us, it was god,
playing with our destiny'.

Next: two birds in two cages, playing with seeds.
Children in a game of hide and seek,
people playing 'house'.

And next, when you're taken away
everything dies: life, its bustle, playing.

In the next, when you're with me again,
rivers want to play with valleys,
perfumes want to play with colours.
My eyes want to follow you like a playful gazelle.

In the next picture, your fingers run through your hair.
Your hair plays across your face.

Share this poem