I have watched for long
the sky scattering
staccato of moss green walls
overgrowing a distance
musty corners
of my home where clouds
and ghosts have taken refuge
There is still the old mango tree
Holding face
eyes washed off afternoon sins
shades of sun trapped in courtyard behind
rustle of your breath that broke the touch
of astachal
whispers from a gramophone
beckoning the dark
I have watched you
in night
treading raptures
nimble violence of incisions
on carved marble and niches of
broken dreams
And I have watched you
ageless with the forts
seasons topple
with slumber
and a hush reverie
spreads always
that you had once
bequeath
in time.
