Tuesday, November 13, 2012


Early morning

After a sleepless night

Of thunderstorms and shrieking winds;

Now this clear dawn, the empty roads,

This sleeping world:

The orange ball rises, shyly,

Turning the snow-white peaks red,

Lighting the green valley

That lies ripe with yellow mustard.

Utterly beautiful,

Quite impossible

That such loveliness exists.

I am greedy.

I have this strange yearning

For an off-season mango,

And your presence;

The mango months

Are half a year away,

And you and I

Are forever split by the bounds

Of customs and propriety.

But this is a make believe world.

I find you by my side,

Laughing at my mango fondness;

You ask me, sleepy eyed,

If I too find such dawns lovely:

I answer, tongue-in cheek,

With a warm smile,

“Impossibly so”.

Diptesh Ghosh

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