Posted by: Ron DuBour | February 11, 2015

RUNNING FINGERS~by Indira Sadanandan




What is happiness?
It is the inventiontion of the unknown
Realisation of wishes.
Once you are remembered by a new friend,
A stranger comes with a bouquet
To pray along with you at your father’s tomb
On the anniversary day,
A hand falls on your shoulders to solace you
When you lose a bundle of money
Kept for a critical situation,
These are all carriers of sweet memories
In a winter night
There you fall on the lap of silence
These like birds making spots on the skyblue
With white clouds in an
Upper sanatorium.
There you are running your fingers
on my back neck.

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