Come let’s play, under the roof of forked sheds woven from the interlocking sighs of stars in the breathing sky.
Come let’s play, darling as the world eulogies the breaking bonds that shackles their nocturnal nights.
Come let’s play under that valley, possessively coated with the paint of God’s hand, with its delicate fingertips encompassing aeons of human desires.
Come let’s play, let’s play hide and seek down those lanes of heartbeats, lined with houses locked with dusted days, or homes smelling of love and chocolate chip cookies wafted like incense into the languid laughter of heat and healing.
Come let’s play, under the soft smile of sun,
like dusty images of caricatures, like dances on dreary deserts, like the ocean stretching a limb or too.
Come with me, with binoculars in locked drawers, we’ll climb the sycamore tree, and perched upon the highest branch will see the pattern of passions underneath the bed of rocks of our home.
Won’t you come with me,
Won’t you play
daydreams and dresses, and cocoons and carrom, and ball and balloons, and ladders and layers, and monopoly and massacre?
So come today, this hour,
Come, love, let’s play.