Salvation in a Tea Cup

The game ended prematurely.

Sigh!

The tease from the empty cup

was over in seconds, 

even before I could 

burp out the verses;

it lasted barely two lines...

The first, a dedication,

to the evening,

the second, to the last drops

of the brew,

stuck to the edges 

waiting for salvation,

the kind we all deserve.

The stains remain,

on the evening sky,

and the coaster carrying

baggage from John Lennon!

-- Leslie

Window Seat​ Blues

The ​rolled up glass,
my whimsical barrier

for a shrinking playpen.

Will it keep a childhood immortal?

And keep out the dust 

from an unkempt Indian highway .

We see reality rush,

in haste, a future, 

destiny and her wheat shoots.

The passing fields 

demand to be sowed, reaped

and then burnt to dirt.

It combusts fast though,

the minutes,

and the fuel in our car.

The radio comes alive,

let us run, baby run;

toward nowhere, yet everywhere.

Toward everything

but this trepid window,

for just behind it lurks our future.

-- Leslie