Wednesday 23 March 2011

Touch And Go


the sun wriggles out
of the blue-black-blue blanket
the crowd of clouds
begin to jump their own jumps

he opens his eyes
and his pillow turns crimson
he touches his blanket
and it warms up in saffron

he looks up at the wayward clouds
they blush pink in awe

united in solitude, they traverse
across the blanket -- sea-like
they will now run, jump, glide
the clouds will now not hide

for they have heard of his tales
of how he wriggled
out of a dark blanket
to bring to us this morning

burning, he smiles,
emulating his light, the clouds fly


Bhagat Singh
Didn't they garland you this morning?