Work-Life Balance

Catching the dusty sun beyond my home; Across a line of borrowed water Dying, still, between two slabs of concrete; Grey half-circles under its eyes, In a hurry to leave, The day’s pending jobs hiding in twilight To reappear at daybreak When a dusty sun rises.

To an Ocean

I picked a few empty shellsalong your shore.Empty homes of your childrennow long gone;Echoing you, the breeze, andtheir conversations with the sand.I wear them around my neck,at a home away from you;Little kisses, a sunset, and loverest on my bones.

I love you – III

The ocean, you said You smelt like the ocean My love, that was but half true. I draw seashells on my letters; I find grains of sand in my hair; My skin tastes of salt. I stood there one evening, Watching the sun disappear You took back the ground beneath my feet, With every wave,…