Temptation
Beyond the grill
Is a place that I do not recognise
Only sometimes in the night
I feel a strange lull
And an unmistakeable cord
Binding me
To something, or someone, or some place…
I think I knew it once –
Light has meaning there
And shadows bestow cold comfort
Rustles are interpreted
As swaying trees
And moans as the sound
Of the wandering breeze.
And if an elusive perfume
Wafts in to hover
Indeterminately
In this place called a room,
I resist.
What else would I have myself do?
I believe I am a small step away
Yet a small step closer
To finding out – what?
Maybe I do not know I am finding it…
They call it the seventh sense.
Copyright © Priyanka Kumar | Year Posted 2005
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