The Warm Friend
He would visit the wharf of the pond very often
Peace and joy writ large on his lips and eyes
He would whistle a tune to call the shoal of fish
From inside the water as well as from his heart
The clouds got intimate with the flirting sunlight
Like a comfortable poem the shoals appeared
In three or four groups they would come up to
He would look like gleefully chatting with them
In wonder would look on the tales in the reeds
Shadows of tall palms played hide and seek
He would feed them as if they were his children
Sometimes he just talked on with no motivation
Their movement would raise ripples in the pond
Inside would pulsate an impressionist painting
The euphoria in water would erase and redraw
Clouds in loud colours would go down the water
And would watch in wonder the blue rendezvous
He shed the foliage of his unquenched passion
Into the mother water that with a purple comfort
Would convert them in the lotus of his heartbeat
Country folks remarked he must have been a fish
In his previous birth in a very deep pool or lake
No, others would say, an angel accompanied him
In his surreal bridge of love for the water and soil
The mahogany at the roadside would smile a little
He would write so well his poem inside the water
Where human and piscine tongues would meet
Time halted a while in the warm breasts of geese
As the sessions came to an end he would depart
Sweet and salty sweat-drops would wet his shirt
_______________________________________
14 March 2017
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017
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