There’s more than what meets the eye
Didn't you say, you were mine?
The clock will strike twelve, where will you go then?
In the dark, I will not look for you anymore
I have never looked for anything but my reflection
My yellowing pages are all about me
I can let go of new chapters
I can let go of pages before they decay
I will not ask you to stay
Forever is too long, the ink will dry out
The clock strikes twelve, almost
It’s time to turn into our ghosts
There was more than what met the eye
No matter,
I am great at goodbyes.
I remember an evening when my feet kissed the damp soil
My long dark hair flowing down in glossy coils
The earth being passed on to summer from spring
Aroma of baby mangoes and the cuckoos’ calling
A garland of fresh white jasmines pinned to my hair
A trail of the scent followed me everywhere.
I carried a large book in my arms
It told me tales of uncountable charms;
In our garden I spent my evening
Reading about kingdoms and kings
Time stopped yet flew as ever.
Each moment I delightfully savoured.
I imagined myself trapped, like the princess
In the tower, the damsel in distress,
I could almost see my prince slay the beast
The story ended with our wedding feast.
I remember the evening when I closed my book of tales
And returned to my dingy room, untidy and stale
Maa and Baba raising their voices across the thin walls
Happily ever after, I knew, was false
Maa chided me for reading fairy tales
She said it was time for me to read something else
After all I was a girl growing up
And dreaming was indeed not enough.
I put away the book one day
To ground myself in reality.
Days and years and lives have passed
I wonder if I did grow up.
I say I don’t believe in fate
But deep inside I think I may
I’ll tell no one, but I think I’ll wait
For my saviour, my soulmate.
mimimusing 