Rememberance

I sit alone in my room
the moon steals in
through the window
makings patterns
on a patterned floor

A whiff of breeze
spirits in a whisper
Of a thought
laced with passion...
Unspoken yet shared

Amidst a jugalbandi,
of esoteric music,
conducted by a turbulent & fickle old man
I seek a distant drummer
who can awaken...

Primordial memories of
dreamy moments...
and fantasies ...
snatched from a patterned & predictable existence

(c)Atanu Prasad Sarma