'Hey you! 32!'

I woke up a morning,
After an insomniac night,
Today's paper was yellow,
Thirty Two years old, and
Front page, right column,
Spoke of Missing Persons.
There were none but One,
Male, 32, Wheatish, 5'10"
Northerly hair line, unruly
Outgrown French beard,
Curly entangled ponytail.
Last seen on a bridge,
Writing all by himself.
Pair of faded blue jeans,
Brown khadi kurta, with
Tired rolled up sleeves.
I'm now at the mirror wall.

From the paper,
I look up,
From the mirror,
He looks back.
A post-it on the mirror
Scrawls,
'Hey you! 32!'

Itself isn't, yet It Is

Itself isn't, yet It Is
Itself isn't, yet it's fragrant,
Itself isn't, yet it's warm,
Itself isn't, yet it's rousing,
Itself isn't, yet it's moving,
Itself isn't, yet it's reviving,
Itself isn't, yet it's alight,
Itself isn't, yet it's selfless,
Itself isn't, yet it's giving,
Itself isn't, yet it's honest,
Itself isn't, yet it's loyal,
Itself isn't, yet it's twinkling,
Itself isn't, yet it's caring,
Itself isn't, yet it's nurturing,
Itself isn't, yet it's embracing,
Itself isn't, yet it's transforming,
Itself isn't, yet it's timeless,
Itself isn't, yet it's crushing,
Itself isn't, yet it's painful,
Itself isn't, yet it's healing.
Is it
A tree?
Or is it
Just love?