[Poem] Storyteller

Quaint yet tragic are some stories I narrate
In calm, a mirage of distrust they create
Eyes scourge me with contempt, I smile
The tongues wag, they call me senile

As the days pass, they attain new colours
Characters assume new names, new powers
They keep going back and forth in times
In line with the audience, in line with the climes

My thoughts, suffocated and cluttered by words
I vent them out; set them as free as the birds
They come back by eve with a twig or two
and with these some fine tales I brew

Trust me; some idle time of yours is all I need
To entice you with my words, to sow that seed
When I tether you down and your heart would bleed,
another story unfurls with you in the lead

Vijay © 6th January, 2006