Rahul Aithal

It's Monday morning and he wanted to skip school,
his stomach was hurting, that's how he would fool.

Mama approached and he held the stomach hard,
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As you hold me to impress,
the first error is made,
you use me in depress,
when nerves have frayed.
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Soft colours caress the face,
people greet with warm embrace,
water-balloons in joyful menace,
quelling stale and ill grudges.
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Deep eyes,
reflect her,
my face can't,
conceal the love.
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She veils the fire,
that resides in her,
just enough so,
to tempt desire.
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Yearn to be a bishop or a knight,
if not the king in her life,
I live around her sorrows and joy,
unaware being a pawn; at her fancies, sacrificed.
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Dream, dream, this wonderful mind,
of those sweet corn fields and endless stream,
bathing in sun and in the moonlight,
I once strolled from morn to eve.
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There lies the school teacher, strict, severe,
now so serene, so quiet in here,
alongside the school gardener,
partners in crime; now, forever.
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Stitched of a false mask,
buttoned with colourful threads,
I'm needled to last,
hold me not liable if I don't live up to the label,
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Counting to slumber-
she grazes in winding trails
short tail, woolly coat,
then one climbs over the bridge
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On a roadside cafe the hunter sits,
the deep eyes skate over the bustling crowd
in search of the hunt that often outwits,
teasing the patience of the hunter abound.
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Tweeter-ee tweeter-ee tweet
chirped the blue birdie,
I want something to eat,
I am so hungry.
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On an island
stranded alone,
restless I rant,
where is home?
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Do you remember me Mr. Malone?
I am your little Amy, now grown.
I lived two blocks down, when I was young,
and loved the sound and the roll of your drum.
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Swollen cheeks,
blood-red eyes,
heart bleeds,
the head dies.
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Every night she stands by the window,
peeping inside and whispering low,
Watching me with eyes, deep and green,
which have haunted me even in my dream.
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