Hungry map
When I walk,beneath my feet,
the road begins to sound.
I listen
to the music of the road.
When I walk,
beneath my feet,
the road begins to dance.
I move my feet
to the rhythm of its dance.
When I walk,
beneath my feet,
a map of the road takes shape
.
I scatter myself
across the map of the road.
I want to play
with the road.
Hungry map
It gobbles up
my body.
Poetry by sinha murari
Written on 2026-09-10 at 05:14
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