When the clouds cannot,themselves contain,
They are restless and find peace in the rain,
My sedate heart mirrors their turmoil deep,
Beats with a strength,drawn off a rested sleep.
The pounding menace threatens to revolt,
If my fingers ,by their urge,are not troubled.
My soul,a co-conspirator of a scheming heart,
Drives my mind and bends it like a reed,to art.
I fix my gaze on the blank pristine sheet,
I will my imagination to make the lead bleed,,
The wooden tool breaks into a graceful dance,
Sketches lines dark,on the page,as if in a trance.
I watched my heart leading my fervent finger,
Filling up the sheet with the song of a divine Singer,
My secret desires uncoiled,stretched on the page,
How I had yearned but squashed them in a rage.
My fingers had hungered for the feel of those locks
Now my pencil traces the strands,the feeling shocks
How I longed to smoothen those lines of worry,
My eraser, gently wipes them,the tales sorry.
I had so wished to touch the skin of the face taut,
Stretched to define the contours, fraught
With a brooding gloom and unknown misery,,
I felt it, as my pencil shaded the untold story.
The dreams in those eyes I wished to capture,
My lips trapped a song,raring to break,in rapture
An unspeaking mouth,but full was carved,
Maybe a bit parched,a little kiss starved?
Tiny shivers through my veins coursed,
My thumbs brushed a smile,the lips endorsed,
The pencil nib planted kisses on the lines bold,
My breath shallow,face aflame,palms grew cold.
I stepped back,beneath the brows watched the eyes ,
A world of grief unfolded;,there escaped my sighs,
I held the sheet close to me,taking it in a hug tender,
I sent up a little prayer to Him,to them be a little kinder.
Chandni.
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