Her Brook
It would be around eight in the morning
Endless rain perhaps taking a brief rest
In her eyes a shadow of nice evening
In her gait past middle age well expressed
My eyes at the clouds I walk a bit slow
Her humming voice stops me for a short while
“Poori pakaibo Halwa pakaibo”
It is a refrain blended in a smile
The tongue is a dulcet ethnic Hindi
I will cook poori and halwa it said
Delicious dish for the olfactory
I look at the jasmines in her long braid
On the outside soiled sari and lean look
Inside her she nurtured the rippling brook
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July 26, 2017
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017
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