As if on a beach the moon
I become cloaked by the vision...
now it savours
wetness, like dew...
Dust motes fell
light catching their diaphanous folds...
in the soft summer warmth
amidst the late auburn rays...
Not able to sing?
you have become the song...
Mob tries to set
ablaze a Taj Mahal...
She
is...
The trust was intact
but you would not carry...
The city life is hectic and the noises never cease
I long for nature’s quietness, its tranquility...
In death probe,
what you intend to find...
There was no space between
the bonsai...
light
shining and bright...