The mountains galloped down today
all around me
riding hard the dragons in the sun
in an armor of mist seeking your
runaway eyes at an edge of my dream.
I grasp shuffling steps in the haze on a
Sunday morning
flea market, the smell of rancid cheese
dewdrops on your hair and perhaps a fleeting
smile when you once looked back
hesitantly perhaps trying to
locate a truant cloud between us.
It was the river flowing within the city that finally found you in the rampant solitude of a monastery as my mustache brushed against your breast in a timeless night-song.
Thimphu is the capital of the Kingdom of Bhutan. The river Wang Chhu flows within the city. This poem was published in Kuensel, the prominent daily newspaper in Bhutan.
