The Lady in White

There is a quiet angel waiting in white

She watches, patiently, quietly.

A robe of pure white, she remains

Like a lotus in a sea of colours.

There is a shade of grey

It grows as we do

A simple law doesn’t exist

Ifs, buts, thens and whens do!

They take you by the scoop

And turn you upside down, face first.

There is a shade of grey.

Lingering in the background

Like your own ignored shadow

It prospers, yet stays patient

Confused - To blame, to not blame.

Thread thick pathways, tread softly

Like the cat on a wall.

There is a shade of black

Devil with horns and tail

Glowering like coal, black

looks like a condescending guard

Opens its arms wide and calls you

To fall into it, sneakingly

It doesn’t care how bad it appears

It does not matter too.

Its sanguine demeanor pulls you in.

Leaves an aftertaste that you will regret

you watch the barren tree with never flowering stems.

There is a quiet angel waiting in white

It knows what you are, what you need

What you can, what you cannot

It becomes your nagging conscience

Asking you to stop, silently pleading

Overheard, resigns with a sign, but never retires

But, It is patient, holding itself.

When all falls, it will stand tall.

A warm bed, a warm home

A tub to soothe and wash your soul

A second chance

And lets you slumber in its arms

Strokes your hair and calls in utopia

A neverland, straight, right and quiet
Thus defined, are the shades of your conscience.