Do I make sense
Or does sense make me..?
I often wonder
And probably I will be left wondering!
Incase you have an answer
please ping me
(c)Atanu Prasad Sarma
Saturday, June 30, 2007
In a forlorn bus shelter
Standing in a forlorn bus shelter
kissed incessantly….
by the rain
that flies in the wings of the wind
Warm inside
as I stand Alone
in a motley crowd
of passerbys
the wind screams
as a thousand drums
the rain beat.
Flashes light up the sky
as the clouds roar
a primeval ritual or perhaps an instinct at play
I tug my raincoat closer
And wipe my brows
I seek your warm hand
and soft cheeks….
your sweet voice haunts me
as does the ghost of the sweeter half a night
Meander in my mind..….
(c)Atanu Prasad Sarma
kissed incessantly….
by the rain
that flies in the wings of the wind
Warm inside
as I stand Alone
in a motley crowd
of passerbys
the wind screams
as a thousand drums
the rain beat.
Flashes light up the sky
as the clouds roar
a primeval ritual or perhaps an instinct at play
I tug my raincoat closer
And wipe my brows
I seek your warm hand
and soft cheeks….
your sweet voice haunts me
as does the ghost of the sweeter half a night
Meander in my mind..….
(c)Atanu Prasad Sarma
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
