my skirt lifted knee high
I stepped into the brook
smooth sand and snappy stones
under my feet
away from the nagging everythingness
a moment of blissful nothingness
the koel and me
in conversation
a busy snake
swimming to the sand
little red ants
stitching up mango leaves
and then I let the sand flow out of my fingers
as I sigh foolishly for yesterday and tomorrow.
"what is" slips out of the fingers only for what was or what would be. very well put, rach.
ReplyDeleteI see the picture of a small girl in a red long skirt happy and blissful of herself and the world, not sighing at yesterday or tomorrow, but, smiling at it.
ReplyDelete@sleepyface: thank you.
ReplyDelete@consumed: thank you for your comment. :) It just became more visible after your comment....I wonder though, I wonder if we are consumed by the joy of the poem and blocking out the hopelessness.
The poem is full of life. Please keep writing.
ReplyDeletewhy have you stopped writing?
ReplyDelete