Thoughtless

Thursdays

The ones that are supposed to be thoughtless.

Submerged in spirit, removed from identity.

The day that the Guru loves -

Occurring mid way, like crisis' contra-entry

Thursdays make everything special

That scoop of ice cream tastes creamier

A new scarf wrapped around the neck

lends a special flair.

That phone call to a dearest,

Wait, even a heart wrenching loss

Becomes soul drenching on this day.

Morning sun filtered through blinds

Catching a gleam on the china

Making the cup transform into a work of art!
It’s got to be the day!
"Wow" I gasp.

The bystander offspring makes an eye roll

"Mother, you are an abuser of Wows"

"On top of being an abuser of that phone cam"

"Why would you click pics of critters and cups?"

"Of the boring and the blah??"
The teen didn’t get the memo looks like!
It’s a Thursday.
It’s like putting a monkey on substance
When you put her Mom in a Thursday.
And what better day to complete a one hundred?
Here goes the century
The celebration.
The supposedly thoughtless
Meditative, non contemplative
Irony’s lost child
Yelling in triumph that
It’s a Thursday.
And on this day,
Blah should sound like Bliss.
And a teacup should look like the Taj!
It should, it should. It has no choice.

This and That

It was some kind of a maze

Grown to make one get lost

That was the whole purpose..

The lost, lonely, panicky feeling;

The thrill it offers.

The relief, the triumph 

When you steam through
The dead ends, 

The bare walls

That stand and greet you

Only to deceit you.

But he marched along, nevertheless

Holding the sister's hand, firmly, gently.

Trotting in a way 

His Four years on the planet

Kind of step back and wonder,

If they had counted themselves right!

I follow him armed with my DSLR

Trying to aid my heart's capture 

With supporting visuals.

He removes his shoes

And jumps into the corn pit

And stomps away.

I stop, to look at him

Wait till the eyes lock.

He holds the gaze a second longer.

Don't these kernels hurt your feet?

He looks at me and smiles

And looks through me, with a dusty gaze

Like I am a piece of glass, a sheet of paper.

He holds his sister's hand again

And replies 

"They hurt my feet, but not my walking"

I freeze.

And I gasp and sigh

on a piece of my screen

The depth of those words!!

Pictured - The Corn maze by the pumpkin patch. Somewhere in the Golden state.