Washed Away

All the stains and the pains,

The names and what remains after the names;

All the scratches and the cuts,

The screaming arguments and ifs and buts;

All the dirty and the foul,

The worn out Tee, the used up plate and the bowl;

Even all the beauty and the charm,

The house, the hut, the pit and the farm;

And even the love and the scream,

The yester nightmare, the current flicker and the coming dream;

All gets washed by water, time and a hopeful mind.

(Photo courtesy - Krishanu http://krishanuphotography.wordpress.com ) 

The Table and The Chair

I wish not for a lot things, just few.

All I want for now is an Old Table and a Chair New.

A table that has stood the test of time,

So that it could take the weight of my shoulders and my mind.

A table whose surface is softened by time and stays cold in any season,

So  that I could just lay my head down on it, yet be firm as reason.

A chair that is soft and comfortable and  that smells of me,

So that I feel at home on it  and dream into eternity.

A chair that allows me to recline and notice the wider scheme,

But pulls me back just as easily, as I work towards the next dream.

I wish for this to have an ecosystem, that is truly mine.

And the old and new are not a result of economy, but by design.

So that While I make future, without any clue,

I have the present under my back and the history all on the table, in my view.

I wish not for a lot things, just few.

All I want for now is an Old Table and a Chair New.