I have a collection,
a large jar full of
broken colour glass bangles
combed from all around world.
Glitter and glamour it,
now looks weary and faded.
Shaking and spreading down,
I often look at each one closely.
Talk to them in silence,
all of them once adorned,
a woman’s arm of dreams.
Now they are scattered,
shattered in meaningless pieces
adding mere colours to my hobby.
On silent lonely nights,
each one gets up to tell a story.
Some sordid, some about cruelty,
men broke some of them.
Some by harsh fate of destiny.
My thoughts entwined in them,
I listen until dawn. I turn myself,
into a Kaleidoscope reflecting-
colourful patterns of their vision.
Sun penetrates refracting a rainbow.
I love my dreamy angels,
sewing a wing on me.
Just to fly among dragonflies!