Not a love song
He landed up in my world of words.
I could not contain him
In my functional life’s coloured folds
Never did I want to, it seemed.
It was some two years ago,
My eyes wandering to and fro
The dusty lanes and crowded bazaars,
Rested on the waves that lashed
Merrily and mellifluously upon his face.
His locks swayed to the moods of the breeze
And his face hung in solitude like the pale moon.
He was a complete stranger and
Therefore, my thoughts did weave
Character unto him. He existed only in mind?
His springy steps through the lawn
Was like a couplet each paired step at dawn?
Sufficient unto itself and not allowing
The observer to stretch further, thus, halting.
The long standing glance he shared
With the stars while smoke rolled out
To design clouds about them to confuse
The natural order of things,
Remained deeply into the night above him,
And brought back untainted images of poetry.
He was a poem, floating in the lightness
Of many lost thoughts emerging and dying.
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