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Shall I tell you how the caravan was looted
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The first Time
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I walked through the meadows
Where the trees were sunk on mist
There
were no birds
No flowers
Merciless winter
I saw him lying on the hostel bed
A boy of sixteen years old
Eyes
closed
ot of girls walking through the passage
The guy still dreams
A white dove
Flown in through the window
Sat on his chest
He was in a hurry
A shock wave
Passed through his brain
He forget the world
She
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Then she came
With the fragrance of guva
Her calm elegance in dress
And royal grace in bearing
Made
her glitter
When she walked
It was on a summer mid day
When the temperature gone up
Beyond the boiling point
Feathers flown in the air
Rivers of sweat
The speed
Fallen like a cotton bunch
She cried
On the valley
Can see the silver flow
Yesterdays tears
And she went
From the mountain top to the abbeys
Oohhhh
A
rose will not live more than a day
The House
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Everyday I make a house
With weak wood
and ropes
Everyday my geometry fails
After the torturing nights of nightmares
Everyday
I destroy my house
Again in the next morning
Goes out to the woods
In search of
Strong branches and ropes
Today also
I
made a house
The architecture of this
Also
May be wrong
Otherwise
What is the need of a house
For
a daily wandering Gipsy
The life
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Life is a piece of wet paper
Which doesnt have
Meaning
or thoughts
But death
It is a chimney
Having the intensity
Of fairing up of
That wet paper
WHO THE
HELL AM I ???
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