Passing by
dusk casts its veil gently
as I walk along
this quiet street
under winged elms shedding
flaky white blossoms
at my feet
the hour is my own
no one here to nettle my peace
other walkers, far and few,
wave or smile occasionally
people come and people leave
I have learned to let them be
for on these intersecting trails
we’re passersby, you and I
© Neetu Malik
-
sultry afternoon
in the vast cornfields
reaping gold -
I wait eagerly
for absolute darkness
to lose my shadow -
I drop pebbles slowly
watch them fall
in a shallow stream -
she reaches out
touches fog
she had hoped
for the sun -
Walk me through
your caveshow me the petroglyphs
the stories
you have laboriously pecked on the walls
with your hammer stone,
carved in the light of a lantern
where shadows cast gloom.
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Words to ponder, Neetu. Thank you for a thoughtful poem.
Thank you for stopping by to read and post a comment, Dianna.