
Shall we dip our brush
in the deep blue dusk
so we may paint joy
we stole from
the passing day
before it grows dark?
No, I think I would rather
wait for the red sun
to draw bright rays
across our canvas
and let them dry
into permanence.
© Neetu Malik

all I hear is this song…
carried to my ears upon waves
as they ebb and return
a symphony of love
played on instruments
of the heart—
those harps that pull
me into the ocean
teach me
to ride the waves
© Neetu Malik






I drop pebbles slowly
watch them fall
in a shallow stream
it runs cloudy
under such a pristine sky—
they ripple
and disappear
from my eye—
but I know
they lie trapped
in murky debris
that rained down
from angry clouds
© Neetu Malik

she reaches out
touches fog
she had hoped
for the sun
to slip its silky warmth
over her cold skin
withered and splitting
like the bark of a tree
not used to early frost
summer has not yet
run its course, she whispers
as she exhales a misty breath
it is too soon for woodpeckers
in the woods, the air is dense
besides a lone goldfinch
she might be the only witness
to the end
© Neetu Malik
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Can help from a lavender-eyed sea witch, a few enchanted cupcakes and a touch of New Moon magic really rescue a once famous now washed up artist from himself?
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