Thursday 7 July 2016

Amla

Fingers sway on earthen pot
Rhythm from nothingness
Empty spine of a flute
Whistling bliss
Luring me into a brilliance

Could anyone touch me?
Like fingers on that clay?
Could anything soften me?
Except the flute he’d play?

Like dawn beads on grass
Effortless strings of Veena visit
The company of flute
To appease my ears’ thirst

Mischievous energy
Cheerfully tease me
I sanction its spirit
To indulge me

In trance, head sways
Eyes shut from the Earth
Smile carved by lips
Peace exposes its worth

Drenched cheeks
Beats weaken
To the groaning fan
My ears reluctantly open

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