What is in between
The stars surface above the hills as if from a darkening
The last bird has reached home – purple glow, in Bengal,
it is the cow-dust time.
The dusk hangs between the vertical blinds, like longitudes
I had once to choose from,
where still I cannot go back to look for what I lost
at the day’s beginning.
Happiness is not remembering, not looking for the meaning,
just the middle filling the eye.
Comments about this poem (What is in between by Jay Kasturi )
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