-for Sanyata, little ballerina –
gathering many layered petticoats
you twirl and bob velvety head
to the wind’s whispered musical notes
keeping thorny feet on your leafy bed
beneath earth rocks nettle
immobile legs keep you in place
intricate roots serving little
to prevent the sweep of your grace
with dainty feet, ebony-haired girl
pirouettes in time to your every step
and together, quiet splendour unfurl
creating beauty with indescribable depth
and I, spectator to this magical...
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“I miss Lola, Mum,” my five-year-old Anya said woefully, referring to her grandmother who was in another country.
She was echoed by her three-year-old sister Thea who had gotten bored of her activity book and was looking sadly out the window. Out on the street, the trees swayed as the wind howled. It was not a pretty sight for children who had grown up amidst a tropical climate, where the sun was almost always out, and where everyday was ideal for outdoor play.
“Me too, darling,” I...
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Evening has come,
little girl.
Night’s satin fabric falls
to blanket window panes
As crickets start
their evening serenade
And all around
houses descend on a quiet
Like busy, rumbling machines
breaking from the daytime riot
I sprinkle
fairy dust
on your droopy eyes
As you wrestle and play
Barbies and Kens
“For just a little bit more, mama”
Until –
arms drop,
eyelids close,
heavy breathing commences.
“Good night little Sanghaya,
it’s time for your dreamtime adv
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