Sadness, disappointment, loss.
A look, a glance, that smile.
So familiar, like memories of a dream,
That echo in bubbles,
Impossible to hold,
I knew her once, I am sure of it.
I know what she is thinking, at that very moment.
How she licked her lips just before,
How she worried about the-
Oh, it matters not now!
But she does not know me.
Nor would she want to.
For, I am the censure,
I am the lens with which only darkness is seen.
I am the white in the loosened strand of hair, in the night.
I am the ghost, yet to be met.
Orange flavoured ball echoed by a silver plate.
Honking giant metal geese, angry eyes of red.
Zooming,wheeling, almost colliding.
I clutch at anything I can but all I can reach is faith.
A fat man, a god’s man, clad in white, the mark of the holy, on his forehead sits.
Leave your shoes, offer this and that,
And thank me with,
All I’m asking is,
All you must pay is…
I barter my faith.
Then? Then I meet shining brown faces, baked just right,
Hot out of oven, hope in their eyes.
Dancing, debating, grateful, learning. In them
I harbour my faith.
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