Ripples in a lake

I raise the idle hand, itching to make ripples in the lake,

It pulls me, my hand, for forgotten games,

It unconciously flows,

Face-forward, it flows,

Bend, open-fingers like a bowl, it tries to hold,

Knowing that it wouldn’t hold, it flows,

Sending ripples of  a message to absorb me in, it flows;

Assuming a cooling bliss in me continues, it flows,

Like a damp log bed to lie on, on the warmest afternoon,

As I listen and try,

It reciprocates every sweat drop on the sould, with a dews on rose;

So do you remember, my friend,

No, I said, I forgot what worries, I held,

Before I opened the hands to flow with you,

I disturbed your sweet serenity,  for my childplay, and yet, you flow,

You pass me, the serenity,

together, we sing mellow,

Now which is me and which is you,

All that is,

All there is,

just flows……………

black-and-white-waves-close-up-view-circle.jpg

RUPIKA MOITRA

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