the orb smiles
pale and paling
its gaze scans walls
covering floor to ceiling
this, is that glass palace
where they all eagerly arrive
to throw away their gift, time so callous
where impatience and idleness thrive
soon, the angels will call
names strange and names familiar
soon, this wait will come to a stall
and in a different place, they’ll reappear
in flying chariots, they’ll leave
carried on the gilded wings that gleam
and those left behind will weave
moments, memories, mellifluous dreams
-adee
Born in New Delhi, India in 1980 and is a retired pessimist (still) living in New Delhi. He has Haryanvi ancestors, a Punjabi girlfriend, friends all over the world, two (or more) yet to be born children, (many) memories of (many) pet dogs and no cats ever. He holds an honours degree in English Literature from the University of Delhi and creates advertisements for paying the bills. His interests are universal, and include: living, eating, sleeping and when not sleeping, daydreaming. Other abiding interests include reading, writing, street photography, newspaper editorials, watching the moon and planning trekking trips that never materialize.