Friday, April 01, 2005

Waiting for India

Pacing the hours. Wearing thin
the carpet of the lounge. The world
stops turning. My time is channelled.
Pacing. Clock watching, tick, tock, tick.

Every second drifting slowly.
My time is still. Yet I am thrown
by present moments into time
travel. Back. Surrounded by all

familiar. Young memories
haunt. A misty air descends. Beats
of colour, slicing through a thick,
smoky atmosphere. Ears buzz,

thumping tunes. My heart on a high.
Hot bodies, breathing. A flash of
cool air, relaxing, giving way
to a desire. Body, heart, soul, falls

free into a rhythm to the
beat. And as I reminiss, I
am woken by a distant ring,
faint, but louder and louder

interrupting the beats of my
dream. The telephone. My heart stops.
Our free teenage years sprint past
in front of my eyes. The present,

frozen. And suddenly we are
thrown into a world of real time.
IT'S A GIRL! And my best friend is
cradling a new child, so peaceful

and innocent in her arms. WOW!
it is surreal and like an
unimaginable dream. And
India changes our lives forever.


  • At 6:25 PM, Blogger Russell Ragsdale said…

    This poem has a tirelessly sensual undercurrent like the climate of a warm place. Enjoyed it very much!

  • At 12:33 PM, Blogger Laura said…

    Thank you Russell, yes I guess it does have that feel, I was trying to portray the happy, good memories I had with my friend in our teenage years.


  • At 12:57 PM, Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said…

    I see your block is unblocked, really powerfull. It felt like you were exercising some things.

  • At 3:12 AM, Blogger Laura said…

    Thanks Sue, well I wish I was unblocked,but I think its just whingey-baby syndrome! I wrote this a while ago on a creative writing course.


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