Utopia

Is that why you cry Little baby of mine When you wet the sheet Without meaning to? Is it the humiliation “What would others think” Is that why you still sit there Hiding what you can? Are you angry at yourself At the body you can’t control For staining the sheet yet again After deciding not to do so? I am sorry they scold you For what you don’t intend to do I know you would hurriedly  Wash the sheet if you could. The way I do. When I stain it with blood Just like that Without meaning to.

As if falling from the sky They had stopped midway And seized that moment too For onlookers to marvel Upon the chandelier above They glistened on the trees As the Sun shone across Swaying in the breeze Yet hanging on to each other Were they judging the fall? As if ending the moment Only to make way for another The bus rushed by  And they showered down  From their abode, gracefully. As they lay on the ground They came beneath hurried feet And mingled with the brown Only to adorn the Earth That had been awaiting the fall. I bent to collect some The ones that lay untouched To hold them in my fingers And preserve them in pages But they were too frail. Just like raindrops . Gracing the colour of joy They justified their name The flowers of the golden rain tree.

When your eyes seem to open more than usual When you can feel the air fill your lungs When your lips curve upwards And as your mind shifts to your smile It just widens further. And you let out a sigh  You amuse yourself Your legs cross over Your hands cover your mouth Holding on to the happiness you radiate. The most profound is the exhilarating heart You struggle to believe yet cherish This happiness which you discovered Lies within that heart which is celebrating This happiness you found on your own.