Monday, October 17, 2011


Cherub mine,
your curls are question marks
to a world losing its rainbows.

Deep in your eyes,
a drop of nectar cuddles
a world that fled my world
long ago.

And your smile.
A swing from papa's twinkle
to amma's warmth.
A hammock next to God.


Maybe some day,
I will tell you how
papa and I shared a smoke
as the rain-tree baptised both of us.

How amma and I sparred
on the wings of a practical joke.

But till then,
I shall just watch
the dimples
on your knuckles.

Photograph courtesy Manasi Shankar

1 comment:

Tinker Belle said...

Dimples on the knuckles. Lovely. :)