For my grandma

Amidst the dance of furtive chances,

I wished just once, wished to be

with you like the day, to dance with

you in the rain.

I wished to be by your side always,

not like the night creeping quietly like a thief.

I wished to be led by you,

to live and love together.

I wished just once, wished to be.

I sit beneath you, but then my grandma

comes alive, amidst the brown mountains

and the hot soups she told me one day,

her sultry, soothing voice sang a song.

“When you grow up,

You really like someone,

Or love him more than yourself.

Be patient though, never run unto him.

I wished just once, wished to be.

If you do so, you would never know,

If he wants to love you, so wait

by the shore and let him cross the river.

You would live in an age when girls

won’t have time to wait, so they would

swim forward, but remember true love comes

only when the man comes to you.

I wished just once, wished to be.

If he does, you both will live forever together.

But if you cross the river, doubts will live

amidst you forever, doubts raised by the

world, doubts raised by a man’s head.

Who takes half as less time to mistrust a woman.

Do not cross the river even if others do..

If he is yours and he loves you, he would

cross it for you, for he knows you love him.

Let him know though that you love him.”

I wished just once, wished to be.

“If he does not come?” I asked playfully.

“Leave him live his love of life, set him free.”

I ate my soup, and nodded, for I never knew

what she said, until I met you, and as I sat,

the words wafted back and the monks chanted hymns

while the bell gonged and the prayers were sung.

While I let you know I love your medic smells and you frizzy head.