Another time...

Chances are slim
that we meet again
and sip a cup of
sizzling chai together
in the winters 
of the east
or have a moment 
or two
with each other
where one need not
say a word
but eyes
speak out the soul

When would I 
laugh again
for reasons
I don't know
or wait for
you to arrive
over my sleepless night

Perhaps, I could
close my eyes
and feel you
hold it at that
forever
else, it may
flood the river
running deep inside...

The song of every season

My heart never learned

the gimmicks of time

My feet never learned

to stop in the mad dance

I was born a wanderer,  I still am a vagabond

So every time the sun sets

calling in my ears

or the shining night moon

that advances me to a beautiful dawn

My constant companion

is the shade of the pine trees

I owe them the solace 

of my whirling soul

and may be there will be 

a time to rest on a shoulder

until the cuckoo comes calling

and the spring comes to life again

Till then I am

the song of every season...

silver fern

in the wilderness

of the leaves and the rocks

a green carpet of wild ferns

covers up walls and walls

of the mountains passing by

and it is deceptive

because the silver is

hiding in its back

and not everyone is

supposed to know my friend

i love the impression it makes

as i carry it on my hand

protecting it from

the cold chill of the night

but it won't stay forever

like every thing

that is beautiful

is meant to part

after delivering the joys

so the wild silver fern

shrinks itself in glory

and you won't even recognise

now the silver is gone

and so is the green

but the wild still remains

and I smile...