Song of Melancholy

by Bharat A. Trivedi

When I was little
a gypsy from the kamrudesha
came to our town.

She was white like moonbeams,
tall as a palm tree, and
her eyes creased more than her palms.
She carried aroma of magnolias.

I was spellbound,
following her
from river to hilltop.
She told me stories under the banyan trees.

One day
she tied a black thread around my neck, and
took me across the seven seas.

She taught me songs
that only a parrot can sing.

13-Feb-2005

More By : Bharat A. Trivedi

Views: 1464 Comments: 0