Painted Red.

I see dark faces painted in red.
Blinded by the paint
that trickes down their eyes,
they see maybe, only
a shadow of me with a pinch of red,
reflecting from the dripping paint.
The paint on their face.
I go to them to help them wash
But then, they dont see me.
They see a dark shadow
moving towards them,
which they paint red.
Now, I walk the streets
painted in red ,blinded by the paint
that trickles down my eyes.
I see dark faces painted in red.
Red maybe due to dripping paint.
The paint on my face.

Brown Curtains

I love the brown curtains,
that just stays.
It sways and swells and moves and breathes,
all the time hiding something behind it.
Something that I never see,
for hiding and seeing cannot share a moment.
The curtain that keeps to itself
and displays the bright colours
as it lets just the right amount of light in.
Keeping the dust away,
it lets me breathe fresh.
Hiding the hard sun and the dusty wind behind it.
Something that I never see.
And it sways and swells and moves and breathes.
Oh what a wonderful gift,
these brown curtains are, Mother!