Seasonal Fruit
in a brief burst
of fiery red and gold
we burned….
our flame
inextinguishable
in Autumn’s blasting
wind song
as it whooshed
past our ears with barely
a tickle
ripe as apples
sweetened by the sun
we bit into the luscious fruit
of seasonal love
but fires
do not last and winter must come
yet, for that fleeting moment
we were gloriously
young
©Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
by the river
he looks lost
his face appears ancient
in rumination
under the sycamores’
embracing shade
thinks he might see
God -
your breath on my cheek,
as I hold you close to me,
silken infancy -
in a brief burst
of fiery red and gold
we burned…. -
Paris, they say,
is beautiful
when it rains—
now I know. -
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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