Again into Another Day
Again,I will walk
through another day.
I want a morning.
A noon.
An afternoon.
Let there be doors
on every side.
And beside each door,
a flame tree.
Under the flame trees,
lovers may be sitting.
Or cows.
Or goats,
tethered to ropes.
And from the auction house
where pain and sorrow
are put up for sale,
perhaps
I will buy
a little loneliness
and carry it away
with me.
Poetry by sinha murari
Written on 2026-10-07 at 17:44
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