When the winds blow in the mountains, they create a music with the river and leaves of deodar, oaks and pines. A man never thinks of poetry, but observes it, feels it. The words do not exist then, only music. The soul of the mountains one cannot capture in pages. I have only tried to write about the music, and a little more from elsewhere. Mountains send the winds to other places too.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The Girl Tuesday
Of all the things that he could have been called
they chose to call him Monday.
People received him with a certain malice
an emotion he privately reserved
for the girl who always came in late
and yet into acceptance, the girl Tuesday.
Lovely this one !
ReplyDelete:) blog revived after long!! Thanks.
ReplyDelete