Paper Flower

A summer night’s dream Dreamt in many languages Carving the same name On whitewashed walls Squinting against the 3:30 pm sun Swaying in the reluctant breeze Always in the same colour Even when stripped of all colour I only see you in the peculiar pink of the bougainvillea of my dreams

A Summertime Romance

I see him out there. I wish I could tell him, he looks nice, still the same though, he should take care of his health. That smile never quite reaches his eyes. They’re troubled. Oh! The dark glasses cannot quite conceal the worries. I hope he hasn’t noticed me. I turn away and walk over…

Road Story 01

It was getting late and her patience was wearing thin by the second. He did not appear quite ready to say goodbye. I saw them from a distance, deep in conversation on their bikes, engines on, idling, and it evoked so many summer romances that I’ve read about, seen on such roads, quiet, peaceful, deserted,…