Sep 142010

by Mangesh Naik

Underneath the tree village ends

in moon’s rays their retinas breathe

ocean spreads it’s wings and music

“Two ones are two”

electric tenor in voices

children made of stars and skies

It rains alphabets and chemali nearby

is scattering flowers too. Tonight It’s

aphrodisiac smell is templish and shiny.

village sounds dying out. Faint echoes of

drunken brawls, bones burning in cemetery,

winter becomes more bitter and vocal.

These children we might have loved if

we could still think. Darting eyes full of

ashes and hugs, bouncing knees, hope dying out.

Finally a closing prayer before the midnight, small

window for small dreams,new day crouches

behind the hills , it’s backpack full of nothing.