5th Studio Street Poem by Prasad Natarajan

5th Studio Street

Heavy confused breeze played their naughty tricks,
That eve, roads took severe turns, walls without bricks,
Flying hopeless leaves watched those falling trees,
Rhythmic silver danced, twirled and sang with ease,

Egyptian kerosene oil lamp light gazed through,
Dusty untouched window, across creepers grew,
Half rusted bronze knobs of the door turned,
Old teak, creaking, menacing sounds returned,

Corner grabbed blank canvas with utmost care,
Vacant easel, cob web jewels adorned the chair,
Charcoal shattered, pastels hued, oils gone dry,
On dust filled studio floor, laid a dead dragon fly.

©Prasad.N June 23rd 2012
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