The Coconut Leaf Top

Faster I ran, faster it spun on a slender stem.
My mom’s weaving magic was marvelous.
Her hard fingers – with the knife scars and
allergic rashes– worked wonders on green
coconut leaves.
Since I was always impatient to dash onto
the ‘spinning ecstasy’, I forgot to admire
her, yet she wove again and again for me
with a smile.

Many skills die in the kitchen as the chicks
in omelets.

Faster the leaf top spun, faster my experience
altered.

Speed’s a risky pleasure.

The top and I withered – faltered to a pause
by the evening.

Now I sit musing, ‘Experience is void, unless
there is movement’.