Mad Poem by prabhakar bhatlekar

Unforgettable old villager.
He had appeared through the
morning fog startling me.
His dangling tee-shirt had
letters on it
'World is beautiful,
to live, not to destroy it! '
'He reminds me of you'
I said to Don at our usual
night meet.
Don nodded smilingly.
'Look' he said 'instead of
talking to each-other people
must observe each-other'
'Umm...quite right! '
'Let their eyes talk'
added Sancho.
I looked out of the window,
night's changing colours
Pink to Purple to Blue.
This funny room of mine
where I sleep or don't sleep
at will, encourages me
not to go out.There,
we three together enjoy
keeping quite.
Only frame-with cracked glass
-on the wall is of
Don on his horse and
a windmill at background.
When he first saw it he said
'It's not my face, it looks
like you' I laughed as
Sancho observed it looking at
it and then to me repeatedly.
Don pointed at my dead
unused mobile phone, said
'Why don't you throw it away'
'It's a souvenir'
'Dead souvenir' sighed Don
murmured 'Change is a rule
and dreams are the spirit...'
It was daybreak and
I left for my morning-walk
in the misty road.