They have been sitting on the porch
in reclining chairs, an old couple,
watching the world go by
each evening the sun's shadows pass
over their faces revealing
nothing more than a few lines
of contentment
they never touch, their hands
always resting neatly on their laps,
or sometimes, they hold a glass of wine.
Passersby note with some surprise
how unmoved they are by changes
like when they widened roads
and built that new high-rise
right in front of their little row house,
dug out cherry trees and tall maples
that grew on both sides
but no one wants to ruffle sunshine
with questions—
they just wave and smile.
Today they sit as usual,
the last of the sun's rays flicker
grudgingly, a little hesitant, it seems
the woman extends her hand,
touches his
their eyes meet—
her hand still on his, a quiver
passes her lips,
she closes her eyes
as he covers her hand
with his.
© Neetu Malik
-
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.
-
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 the idea of not ruffling sunshine and the way the radiance of this couple maintains equilibrium throughout neighbourhood reshuffles, bequeathing a sense of peace on the community.
Thank you, Katrina. I’m glad you like the images. The idea of equilibrium is the sort of thing this couple achieves.
Lovely poem, Neetu!
Yes, though the poet’s focus is on the old couple, the effect of the images is to radiate outward to the community. ‘rogress’ in the community would seem an imposition on them. The effect is in reality just the opposite: their serenity and love casts a kind of blessing on the community. to achieve that kind of organic feeling in a few lines takes great poetic skill.
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Thank you, Carol. I’m glad you liked it.
Thank you, Clark, for the usual insightful reading of the poem. It was actually inspired by an older couple I know. Though in reality, it is the man who is dying, this poem was written long before I knew that.
I like the way you use the thread of the setting sun as a metaphor.
Glad you like it, Dianna. Thank you.