Changing times

Change is a constant;
orange becomes the normal,
and worry, a friend.

Denial

Bush fire-smoked sunsets?
Weather on hormonal spell.
Climate change… What now?

Stunted, I stand—
like a child facing its father
drunk, with no pride, scowling;
as that child registering,
look on its mother’s face.

Stunted, I stand—
as a yearning pianist
learning, watching masters
gliding fingers, seamless
so much to be stressful.

Stunted, I stand—
as a teen, hopeless, in love
curious, cluelessly licking,
purposefully his own lips,
to feel remains of hers.

Stunted, I stand—
mute as a muted video,
blinking, in slowed motion,
afraid, lest the picture fades,
the sun in my horizon.

A bee, tree, carefree
hip, like tip-dyed teenagers
lining sunset roads

darkness, clinging to glass,
dregs of last night
desperate to stay
despite the day

pink hues behind trees
peeking through
prying, the sunlight
posing for eye flash

vacantly elegant ways,
vacationers’ night cap
validating sleepiness
Victorian showpieces

never ending bird chirps
normalising serenity
neutralising pain
neither here nor there

calmly, under shadows
cries of the wee morn
catching the light
cat strolling by