RIC Journal

the koyal lost her way
myriads of bricks
the one she had marked
north-east and homeward bound
was replaced by iron girdles
to erect an attractive young
with its circus and water park
shopping all you can under one roof
circular your walk shall be
getting heavier with the laden bags

the koyal  lost her way today
not a headliner
but she lost her home
she is often seen at the rooftop
of the Galleria
crying out for home

the woodpecker’s left the garden
you miss its pecking the earth
leaving its mark all over-
in patches of presence

a child kissing your warm cheek
before leaving for school
the skin misses that one moment
filling your being
in completeness unmatched

the flowers wither
the vase sits empty
first on the counter
and then
you tuck it away at the back of                                           a cupboard
               where  nanos

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