Thursday 9 February 2017

That One, the One Mad as Birds

I always think of her when I cross this stretch
A little lost girl with a nest on her head
A nest of wild flowers and humming birds
Playing havoc with her mind
Bursting into flight with her thoughts
On stilts she walks
Looking straight over the heads of crowds
That's the only way they're meant to be seen
Bobbing up and down to the rhythm of her personal background score
Last I heard she'd flown with that flock of hers
I imagine her chirping away
Somewhere on the branch of a gulmohar tree
Perhaps that's the only place to be
And till I see her again
I'll chirp from my verandah
Hoping she hears me.

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