There is a festival Poem by Prabodh Parikh
There is a festival
There is a festival
of kites, too.
Even sorrow
has a home of its own.
There is a bridge
of understanding, too.
Even the eye
has a mind of its own.
If we are, that's how we are,
merry and soaped
by the ritual Ganga
There's even an illusion
of joy.
The game of words
The void
has a colour, too.
Thursday, March 8, 2018
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