The first breath in the morning,
how that smile
which so seemed
to a broken eye.
Myself, and the water above my head
singing of the only song
a rainfall monsoon spread to india today.
A girl was seen rushing up the street
soaking her dress,
and i thought
dragged beneath the sea comb of the beach
my hair dragged and rippled up in knots
you were my first love
and now her eyes stare into mine
tossed inside the waves of rain
“he is gone,
and a jasmine blossom
now drowns in the river”.
Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry