of those streets — untrodden and unknown — white
blossoms hanging in shame — i tie my knots
to a sun-bedazzled horizon — rites
of passage — grey streets, umpteenth times, (un)sought:
from the beachfront to a temple’s tempest,
there is music in every step — stone-dreams
of our bodies, long dead and alive, blessed
by the lilting lights of a silent scream.
of motorcades and urine stains — these walls
reek of years and litters that have inhaled
the bequest left by the bay’s sunken souls —
plastic pools, sodium sands, holy grails:
where all did i wander through this caffeine-
daze?— not all trees that stand are evergreen.
.
© Anmol Arora
Linking it up with dVerse, where i am hosting the Poetics prompt this week. The theme is: On Wandering & Observing
