Truth

I should look
Deeper into your
Tiger eyes.

You have
Otherworldly answers,
And love to drown in.

I avert my gaze,
Scared of finding
My truth.

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Last innings

Playing cricket in the musty
Living room,
Tightly packed newspaper hit
Square cut against tightly packed
Leather bound books.
Hard was your stroke,
Soft was your mind.
White hair and red trousers,
Shouting ‘four’ with gusto,
Not knowing life would stump you,
Boundaries getting ever closer
Leather slippers with
Stuttering steps.