the rain of joy

speckled in the hours between

- days and nights
- black and white
- happiness and sadness
- silence and cacophony
- laughs and frowns
- hugs and fists
- you's and me's
- was and will
- us and them
- barbeques and cup noodles
- vodkas and water
- aspirin and glucosamine
- running and vegetating

lie beautiful wafts of clouds
ready to shower a pink rain of joy
with cool mist draped around the house
and warm flames from the fireplace leaping to cuddle
cold hands, content with frozen happiness
steaming hot corn soup -
with croutons for me and without for you
- waiting impatiently to be sipped, singeing chapped lips
and giant bowls of burning cognac
lulling gently in the chilly breeze of ranikhet -
trapped outside the windows of the solid stone house
- yours, mine...ours, soon I suppose.

plush rugs of two bhutias
pushing warmly socked feet for reassurance
that they will - too - soon get warm nourishment.

boys. ah, the boy.
perennially active, ready to prank any unwilling human -
mostly me, rarely you
impatiently, in energy only little boys can claim
they toggle, tussle, run about in a furry
changing the books in their laps
the chips in their bowls
ravishing all of papa's peanuts, dropping flaky skin all over
mama's precious persian rug finally used after
years of storage in various places not least of them -
yeo chu klang, arcadia, munshi abdullah, bright hill crescent,
farrer park, unicorn ship, delhi warehouse, yishun street 81,
klang lane, and then arcadia again.
her frown, even though severe at the impending cleaning
of the rug, is not unhappy
...having lived, living and hoping to live
a long loving life with the ones she loves and ones who love her.
happy is she. indeed.