The Counter Top

From behind the curtain, one peeping eye,
A nervous glance as footsteps pass by,
One chubby foot and then the other,
Careful not to fall in the eyes of the mother

A pink fist closed, the other in her mouth,
She giggles in excitement as she heads down south
Towards the kitchen, where the goodies lie,
Out of her reach, on the counter up high

Curly, soft hair falls on her face,
Her diaper wobbles as she quickens her pace,
But her baby feet trip, she has a nasty fall,
And her tushy is on the floor, diaper and all.

Her big, blue eyes fill with unshed tears,
She lets out a wail, hoping no one hears
The mother is in the kitchen, running around,
Pots and pans making a very loud sound

The father is in the study, his reading glasses on,
He’s been in that position since the break of dawn,
A few minutes pass, she attempts to stand,
All her baby weight falling on her tiny hand

First her tushy juts out, round and proud,
As she mutters baby curses out aloud,
Then she gets up and begins to stumble again,
Convincing herself that the goodies are worth the pain

“Mama”, she says and lets out a tiny cough,
A momentary pause, then she sets off,
Her arms outstretched, she begins to sway,
And lands on her butt again, much to her dismay

This time there’s no control, the tears have to come,
Her lower lip juts out as she nurses her injured bum
The waterfall starts, then comes the sound,
It goes on and on till she’s finally found

The mother comes first, panic clear on her face,
The father follows, aware he’s lost the race
Scooping the baby up, the mother utters words, sweet,
And places her on the counter, on her plump feet

The father acts goofy, trying to stop the baby’s tears,
But neither of their attempts has reached her tiny ears
Because the focus of her attention, one could not stop,
For her eyes and ears belonged to the goodies on the counter top

Reaching out she picked one, then another,
In front of the weary eyes of the worried mother
Quickly, she stuffed them in, two at a time,
And felt like she had successfully committed a crime

The mother first laughed, then the father joined in,
With a glass of milk, the baby washed off her sin
‘Oh, how easy’, she thought, to fool them both,
Tears became every baby’s weapon from that day forth.

Panaromic Dimensions

Luminous, incandescent, sparkling lights,
Competing, contrasting the star lit sky
Rainbow down below, faint white up high,
Priceless, a sight even the richest can’t buy

 

Excited footsteps rushing through stretched gates,
Elated, Ecstatic, the air buzzing with intractable craze
Ticket sales soaring, the moon peeps through the haze,
The carnival is better in the nights, better than the days.

 

Yearning Yellows and Glorious greens,
Poster Coated Walls and diverse cuisines
Rambunctious reds and breezy blues,
Streamer wrapped wires and lanterns hanging loose
The lovely rotating cups, dizziness and squeals,
The children’s bouncy horses, giggles and cheers,
The delightful ferris wheel, its takers pink with frenzy,
The roller coaster ride, looped and utterly crazy

 

Memories of a lifetime, captured for future’s sake,
Multiple flavored popcorn and Layered slices of cake,
The flash of a hundred cams, bright lights shoot across.
Chocolate Coated Apples and delicious Candy Floss

 

The buzzing dies down, at the stroke of midnight,
There’s a tiny flicker, the stars the only light,
Rides no more merry, the carnival not alive,
Across the gates, silent footsteps pass by

An Angel in Disguise

Battered, bruised, lower lip swollen,
One red eye, the other won’t open,
Unending fear, damage and destruction,
Two broken ribs and a jaw reconstruction

Forever running, trying to hide,
Her trembling heart refuses to stay inside,
Shivers running down her spine,
She dreads the moment the clock strikes nine.

I remember crouching, cowering on the floor,
As I hear the creak in our rickety main door,
She gets up and runs all around the house,
In a futile attempt to get away from her spouse

Covering the bruises on her left hand,
She hides her fate, shaped as a wedding band,
A husband by name, a monster in disguise,
As he steps in at nine, a part of her dies

Oh, how many times she wished for death,
For the haggard hiss to be her last breath,
But luck refused to side her way,
It tortured and terrified her, until today

I watch as she sleeps, closing her eyes,
As the smelly room is echoing with cries,
What’s good luck for one can be bad for the other,
I realize that as I gaze at my dead mother

Alone in this world, with nowhere to go,
There’s no means to live, no one I know,
After years of struggle, she’s set herself free,
But she left something behind, something called me.

By the time the clock strikes nine, I’m the only one,
Today, for once in her life , my mother doesn’t get up to run,
But the door doesn’t open either, no one storms inside,
And I’m left sitting alone in the dark, sleepy but wide eyed.

I stare longingly at her face, peaceful at last,
Knowing moments with her are now in the past,
I won’t feel her love and her care anymore,
I know I shall never be as happy as I was before.

With great relief, at the break of dawn, her soul rises up high,
Leaving me here, alone, without a chance to say goodbye,
What’s good luck for one can be bad luck for the other,
But that’s okay, because now I finally have a happy mother.