Feminism

Feminism

                                        picture: Women with raised hands image coutesy: EPW Feminism is the radical notion that women are...

Saturday 30 August 2014

Soothsayer mine, my friend

You were never  mine,
you didn't  belong to me.

Yet somehow it grew in me,

this sweet, intimate fantasy-

you will be around, holder of my hand,

In every crisis, in my every need- 

soothsayer mine, my friend.


Like a voracious baby 

viciously attacks the womb,

runs it down, let's it drain,

unembarrassed, in it's single minded intake.

I've picked your brain as you held my hand,

you amazing creature of delight,

and left for you only aches, some pain.


I go back to the moment 

in which your trust, I earned.

Hanging on to your every word,

was all I had, in me, to commend :

slung myself around your neck, like a sniffly brat.

 Persistence finally  paid off 

I stepped on clouds and walked on mists :

my hand, in yours, you'd taken.



Time has passed us by

and our days are all but done.

As I stand on the edge of the cliff of time

to be hurled Into the abyss,

I count  the innumerable smiles

and nurture in my soul 

the warmth from you, to which I'd clung.


devour every memory, 

and it helps me stow away for eternity 

the way we were, the way we were never meant to be.


The countless shores we've left behind, 

and finally the tides have turned.


Never again will we be, as we were then,

my soothsayer, the laughter of my days,

My mate, my friend.




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