May
13
2018
By Anindya Chaudhuri on Sun, 05/13/2018 - 16:50 IST
A pigeon flew in,
like the wind;
Carrying the world,
in its beak.
I watched her for a while;
Neck arched in sorrowful grace,
wings folded in silence.
Like my dreams,
that do not speak.
I imagined,
that she watched me too;
But I could be wrong.
And then,
Without warning,
or sigh,
She flew.
Back home, maybe.
Where I, cannot ever be.