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

Light Banter With The Bulb

​In between a siesta

and a night slated for grammar,

I find a canyon

to banish the scripted emails, 

as punishment.

Many remain in obscurity there,

others return after sunset,

and remind the dwellers

of Nazareth,

words are immortal.

The subject lines who made it,

and ​the woefully inadequate boy,

dance on a wooden stage,

the rickety scaffolding,

creaking under the 

weight of expectation.

It is night now,

the light bulb says mockingly,

singing ​a ​glowing tribute to normalcy,

but ​a ​long shadow lurks

just beyond his narrow mind,

bolted like my front door.

It keeps the couriers out,

food slips in; 

thoughts and vision hardly do,

the essential commodities, desolately so.

-- Leslie Xavier