The Girl

pitch-forked from a private garden
on to a road not journeyed for
a travel unchronicled –
a nervous nineteen, aware by half.

a strand of fragrant jasmine,
the rustle of the bright blue cotton,
eloquent eyes in shy smile,
innocent of harshness.

the slender fingers in trusting clasp,
the world could do whatever,
the days never the same –
a parade of unfading freshness.

what…straying thoughts of a graying sixty+?
well…just straight thoughts of an incurable,
blessed with a magical vision to see
the girl jumping out, ever so often,

of his dear

(straight thoughts, for a change!)

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5 Responses to The Girl

  1. Sanjay says:

    Wow! Poetry. Didnt know you could write poems so well. This one took me back memory lane to a time when the world seemed so fresh. Maybe the world remains the same, only we get jaded?

    Like

  2. Trisha says:

    So very beautiful and dreamy.

    Like

  3. Gopa says:

    Galloping on a time machine !
    Wake up man, Life is more bautiful in Sixties too !!

    Like

  4. Buvana Dwarakanathan says:

    Never knew you could write such beautiful poetry. This is from
    a besotted teenager surely!

    Like

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