The Other Part of Me

Part of me stays
in the damp office
that smells of keyboards,
printers and an admin
who smells like the machines.

Another part of me
wanders with the last
autumn raindrop and
slides to the earth,
relishing the mud,
grazing the worms
and inhaling their earthy scent.

This vagabond further wanders
and breathes with
the tiny heart of a
red Lacewing
pauses by the burning redwood,
shelters in a shaking palm leaf
before turning back to the office,
awaiting the return
of my lifeless part.

Trees and Rain

The clouds pucker and upon meeting
no resistance, pour down.
The ridges in the pine loosen,
listening to the thunder.
The maple displays its rich red skin,
glistening with water.
A winged Samara detaches itself
from the maple,
teases the closest leaf,
spreads its papery wings and
lands on me, as I huddle
in a corner near my window.
My eyes are glued to the red delicate bark
and I inhale the mild odour
of the misty pines, finding
my paradise at last.

Padmini Krishnan was raised in India and now resides in Singapore. She writes free verse poetry, haiku, and short stories. Her recent works have appeared in the Ariel Chart, Mad Swirl, Page&Spine, The Literary Yard, Spillwords, and World of Myth.