Monday, 5 August 2013

1 Poem by Afzal Moolla

The Swaying of the Grass

1.
A path leads,
to where wild grass grows,
sashaying in the summer breeze.


2. 
Along the path,
lightness settles within,

feeling the grass,
swooning,
tickling ankles,

swaying to the lilting bird-song,
in a dance of intimate abandon,
brushing the remnants of pain away.


3. 
Melodies float across fields of green,
delicately caressing my heart,
teasing emptiness to flee,
comforting the mind,
to silently be.


4. 
Walking on,
savouring the peace,

a momentary respite,
from the burdens of the now,

all is quiet,
a stillness cradling fractured emotions,
the grass in the fields sway,
dusk descends,
shadows lengthen,
nudging dimming light to take leave,
of the day


Bionote

Afzal Moolla lives and works in Johannesburg, South Africa. He writes for pleasure.

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