amitav mazumdar


IN MY COURTYARD


A poet came into
His eyes brought oceans near
Hairs are wet since
The last monsoon showers
Lips dry like of desertlands
And his fingers run all my forgotten errands.

A poet came into-
His footfalls evades
The fear of the child lost in the woods
His nostalgic face fetches
All the mystic neighbourhoods
He is in my courtyard
Smiling like a wildfire
As if my homeland stood
In a bloody attire.

Submitted: Friday, April 12, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, October 08, 2013

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FOR ALL WHOM I'VE LOVED ONCE

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