A Gift
I will not count the seconds
I will not check the clock
I will listen only to the sound of
my own inhale and exhale and
the tapping of keys
watch my breath stir the strands
of my hair
as it falls below my chin
over this keyboard
my fingers
typing this note
to myself, this moment
a gift I give
to me
© Neetu Malik
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I am but dust
a grain of sand
blowing whichever way
the wind blows
in the universe -
You were the guest at my table picking on the corners of the table cloth, fingers nervously folding and unfolding mutilated pride.
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Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
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I tread softly in your world mindful of my footsteps
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Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
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I love this vignette, Neetu! Provocative. Reminds me of what we all need to do at time–write for our own enjoyment.
Thank you for coming by to read this, Denise. Glad you enjoyed it!
This kind of captured moment–almost an instant–is your greatest strength as a poet. Thru the seized instant of time, expressed in concrete, vivid, simple images, you jolt the reader into treasuring THEIR ‘moments’ that in the flurry of our days so often flash by and away. . .before we’ve savored them at all.
Thank you, moonfroth, for the constant encouragement and support you give me. Sometimes, all we have are the moments and they are rare…..
Thank you to all the bloggers who have liked and/or shared this poem. Much appreciated!