a mind on holiday

With every sigh and fear,

In every foot trampling the ground

And soot laden heavy sight,

I wish something.

A space enlivening those arty pictures:

Of cotton soil, new born sky

A shore of corals and soft airy sand.

Day might pass in an eye’s wink

Clocks won’t scramble the veins of forehead

Motor might not trespass 

The ears making love with birds.

Voices may not hammer the drowsy sleep.

Somewhere sun might consummate the sea

Without a sonnet of love.

Drizzling would be silent

Song to a lover’s ear.

Heart would bear less force to pump.

A lap where sleep comes like breathe.

Where breath itself could be

Heard and played with.

No nightmare of forlorn darkness

May dread the day.

My lap too could be a cradle for someone.

A greeting to the life of nomads:

Sit in, lie down, and settle.

No ill fear of robbery, rape, riot.

An uphill drive towards the wilderness,

To the land unknown to the eye,

Where the land and sea end

And tranquil meets peace