Star Gazers
Where I go for my little grotto evenings
breeze- jungle of towers and windows,
two stars twinkle
up the dim bay full of black waves,
one is bright and near
the other small, deep and far
and like a stone lost in the brook full of pumice stones.
at first I resent
the invasion of privacy
when the old man chooses the empty space beside me;
later we nod, smile
and turn our attention to the sky
the other variables here
like the black clouds
kids hollering, baked peanuts for sale
corn roasted and roast sparks
lovers in hug, lovers on stroll
joggers, women joggers,
they all pass us and we gaze
and the old man and me,
we watch those stars
from the same bench
and think of what the stars have to say
then I hear him belch and think the old man's passed away,
fear grips me
and so I turn to him;
he rises to go,
puts his stick on my right shoulder
and whispers
that the light takes so much time
to reach us
that he's not sure if the stars are alive.
Saranyan BV © March 2012 Mumbai
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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