The Jester Poem by Aman Mulji

My kindness for passion is ensnared in my times of yore,
Periods where my emotion were definite,
But was I a jester that suffered from my own mischief,
Or my mirth veiled a dark and hurting truth,
Only the blind may imagine they have mutual pain,
Or they taunt me when I can barely speak,
And she, a pearl of fine beauty, saved me from my silence,
I missed her even if her tone was the air of my delight…
But I adore that an angel noticed such a jester.