Through the Ghats

Watching the dews form paintings in straight lines
Over the fogged windows,
Swept by the convoluted train lines into the valley.
As if the western Ghats have a life of their own.
I saw my desires merge and collapse into a wholesome new.
Only and always to take the form of your beautiful  face.

Some times as my hopes, at some others as my dreams,
And sometimes as distant answers to my longing questions.
But at all times, taking the form of your beautiful face.

About V

Tried building a sky scrapper. Now Re-building it again with worn out tools.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s