Tides of Change
Poetry flows like water, carrying the rhythms of the coast in verse and memory.
Morning Tide
Salt-kissed dawn breaks
over fishermen's prayers,
their boats like folded hands
waiting for blessing.
The sea speaks in whispers
today, gentle against
the hull of memory,
rocking dreams to shore.
Monsoon Song
Rain drums on red tiles,
a rhythm older than
written words, older than
the grandfather clock
that stopped telling time
the day you left.