It’s the last time a bubble
Would waft my way again
With tints of clouds painted
And shades of forest rain
It’s the last time a sunset
Would break across the sky
Swirled with innocence of an open heart
And rhythms of a sigh
It will probably be a while
Until a shock of orange leaves
Flutter in perfect harmony --
The way beauty bereaves
And perhaps from this point on
Clouds won’t be rented by eagle wings
Or afternoons dazzle with fruity songs
The kinds dragon-flies sing
The lotus-shaded twilight
And crushed jasmine dawns
Wane away so silently
Leaving an extended night forlorn
With a smiling sobriety,
all seasons seep through the sky
But there’s something quiet and tragic
When summer passes by
The light, the youth, the pathos
All drowsy deaths they die
But bequeath innocence of an open heart,
and rhythms of a sigh
Note: I was in Pune this weekend. I don't know if I will go there again. This is an ode to that uncertainty.
4 comments:
What I do remember about your Pune posts is the one on rain which you'd written...I wonder if that was Pune or Bombay...it made a lasting impression.
hi devil,
i've written a lot about rain, i think..but mostly i've written about the rain in bombay. :-)
beautiful
it wasn't long back, when everytime i heard the phrase, "all good things come to an end" my mind always responded with, "why? they don't need to". i heard this phrase again recently, i could just smile ... a ... a melancholic smile; they don't need to .. but they do ...
Post a Comment