Caravan
You told me you don't like rains in the hills,
And I showed you Kurseong,
With misty pine trees
and cloud as its cover
We drank hot tea and watched quiet drizzle
while woods whispered in the fireplace,
burned and died happily.
You had told me deserts are dry
and we ran one afternoon
bare feet,
towards the Sun
And heard sands quivering
at the sight of a sunset.
A sky full of unknown stars
and moist eyes
you took home that night.
When we went to the seas
I had said I find it the same,
And on a full moon night we counted
hundred different waves in Ashwem
And far off, some strangers played banjo.
You danced a little.
A few shells I kept in my shirt pocket.
We travelled,
With friends, without,
With strangers,
Bedouins,
angels and devils
And we travelled
Never to reach.
.
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