THE WHIFF
I’m
gliding
on
the wings of the whiff
sweet
encounters
of
the mystery land
had
entrusted me
the
test
and
the meaning
of
this very evening
This
is a time
of
hidden lakes
carried
by the mellow dusk
Ducks
climbing
on
the moon beams
had
left their quack
behind
Trees
in deep meditation
whisper
everlasting
mantra
of wind
My
head lost in high grasses
wonder
the paths of ants
lost
for good
in
the sense of green
Your
palm on my shoulder
has
told me
about
our future memories
about
trust
of
the smooth water
caring
the stars, the trees
and
our bowing faces
in
the black bowl
of
the lake
This
is what the whiff
has
entrusted to me
B-hall
28th September
my
face pressing the bars
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