deserted and out of dunes
you picked me up
blanketed my being
like the twilight of an early summer.
do you still remember that summer
when the gulmohar was ablaze
and the fallen dreams
made a bed of embers?
life was so hot and so red, once…
my friend, the warmth has oozed out
like the freshness from the cucumber pieces
over my eyes, in this unbearable summer...
or from a match-stick, when burnt
bent and brittle, as water dries up...
for that inevitable and unavoidable winter
do i wait…
for the comforting silence
just six feet down from the
insanity of usual certainties
for that inevitable winter i wait now ....