And beautiful those days were
Sometimes beside the village river,
The nameless flowers into light of dusk
perhaps whispered.
Sometimes one or two kingfishers
broke the silence of the river in a
sudden twittered.
For how long, I have not seen sparrows
into blind lanes of our town,
Under the shades of high rise buildings
when the sun would set,
I ran to the roof to find west horizon.
Then two owls would come in my window
They kissed and parted into darkness
And I asked myself whether it was love.
And today I compare your eyebrows
with some red desert.
And your smile with the beaming moon,
And your hands with the leafless twigs
And your legs with the awkward trunks
And I draw your eyes with the feather of
dead pigeons.
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