My mother’s lipstick

Sometimes in sheer memory

I glide on smoothly

a matt finished lipstick

on my skin.

The color maroon

one November afternoon

I see through the mirror

the woman I have known

or reflection of my own.

Not any other

I see my mother

wearing Her lipstick

that compliments Her style

Her beautiful smile.


Miss you mom. 💝


A Random Evening


Having a coffee in downtown street

Exchanging smiles and a hundred greets

Fellow diva play the music high

Let the volume keep touching the sky

The start of li’l hoots and a li’l shakes

A clap a tapping shoe or whatever it takes

Kids peeping in from the window side

Watch the old man dance, they staring wide

Leaving the bill on the messy tray

Wishing life could always stay this way

 (By: Anne Baluch)