Retreat

  When it's long past the hour of the pink sky, the shade of gray is riding over, mutating into a memory, this is the hour and the place to sit down and read the wild card that changes the game of life. The strong sketch in a charcoal drawing lingering before the eye. The tentative choice of pastels, the subliminal thought disturbing, strangely out of place vaguely spreading over the land and the sky. Do the trees sometimes need this space? Silence, half light, residual dark, the stubbornness of the charcoal drawing The hour of suspension Knowing this precarious hour will not last. Tomorrow will be another day. Sushama Karnik. , s Sushama Karnik.

  A poem by Shantha Hulme Dearest Sushama, I thought I will send you a poem in reply....Don't let it make you sad. Life is a celebration! due to those we touch, those that touch us. A sunny day ....sun invited, i wanted to step out, although, it seemed something else awaited at the doorstep, to trip me; Death smiled and said "step out, come on over, let us dance?" and I asked "Why on this bright shiny day?" Choosing a sunny day? two red flowers, gleamed in the sun, drops of blood trickled; frost, resistant; The red and the sun invited Death awaits at the door..... i plead "please go away? give me a few more days" One more day ... to negotiate Death .... one day at a time. With love Shantha Hulme 5 Sem Xtz, Daniele Chany and 3 others 4 Comments Like Comment Share 4 Comments Active Sushama Karnik A fire on the mountain, when the mountain is cool with the winter breeze, and in summer, a reminder of life that goes on despite the heat. A fire on the mountai...