Shoes

am not sure how i'll choose.
maybe he'll be kind,
he'll hold doors and pull out chairs.
maybe he'll be refined
some sort of gentleman i wouldn't mind,
or maybe he'll carry blue flowers
or an umbrella for when it showers.
perhaps he'll write letters
the kind i'll read for hours
but then again maybe it won't be so hard,
if i choose to look at his shoes.

Cook Book

I've got a list of recipes :-

2 spoons of sugar
a hot cup of water
and tea the flavor of jasmine
when am anxious for you to call.

a glass of milk
2 spoons of chocolate
a plate of cookies
when am depressed that you didn't call at all.

a cup of hot water
with a spoon of coffee
to make sure am awake
just in case you call

a spoon of ginger?
or was it 2 spoons of cinnamon???
can't remember what i'll use
so when i see you, i don't fall.

this is the last time i say good-bye
this is the last time i feel pain
and the last time i feel joy.
i walk away feeling dead
a million things running through my head
i turn back to say what i really meant
there's just this space
where a few minutes ago i looked into his face

this is today
and yesterday was the last time i said good-bye
there are still a couple of things i'd like to say
maybe i'll beg him to stay
maybe pride won't let me.
i just want this pain to go away.
now i know what i meant to say yesterday
i meant to say, "see you later".

soon it will be tommorow
i'll be seeing the cause of all my sorrow.
he called me today,
and we set a date for tommorow at eight.
i sit here and think why
it's so hard to say good-bye,
sometimes i think am high,
i guess it's just this thing between him and i.

am hooked on a letter
what it says doesn't really matter
i carry it with me everywhere i go.
though it was written long time ago
the writer will never know
that every word across those pages
tells me of a moment
when i didn't know
that somewhere i was on someone's mind
and someone was taking the time
to pour ink across pages
put them in a pouch and lick the stamps,
though it didn't cost more than a dime,
to me it's a treasure
cos of all the time i know he took
to let me know that at that time
i was on his mind.
i was on his mind.

this river runs,
over the hills and mountains
through the valley and over the rocks
never stopping even through twists and turns
as if rushing to tell the ocean
stories of men
from the distant lands it has been
that the ocean has never seen

it pours itself into the ocean
and this ocean which was once calm begins to roar.
the ocean pours itself out onto the shore
as if trying to reach the land
where the river has been.
up, its waves climb
as if, if they got high enough
it would catch a glimpse of these men
that the river has seen
in the land where it has been.

the river tells a story
of men who sit at its banks
looking for gold
so that they can get riches untold
before they get old.
if only they would look at the sunset unfold
as if God poured molten gold
into the sky, so that these men,
would not to the river bend
but look up to heaven
where the father with gold paints the sky.

the ocean roars with laughter,
cos of this treasure men seek after.
it tells the river a story,
of men who came to it looking for treasure
down they went into its belly and were heard of never.
this ocean is content to look up into the night sky
that is clothed in the darkest of velvet
and glistens with the brightest of stars
or diamonds, it cannot tell.
God has hidden His treasure so well,
'tis so near, yet these busy men
this treasuer will never find.

life is like a maze,
but every morning the sun he does raise.
i like raze,
to him my praise
daily i will raise
and he will take me through each phase.
so i follow him all my days
for when i walk in his ways
with me he will be always.
for me, he never ceases to amaze.