A New Home For The Dew Drops Poem by Shreyansh Swarnakar

Feel the grass touch your skin
Make yours a new home for the dew-drops
Whose reigner signals them with a dazzling beckoning light and chirps, 'Enough leaving, time to leave'.
The dew-drops have gone, do not mock their presence
With salty dew-drops of your own.
Even though frost bites like love, you feel salt chew you.
' This is not the law ', a leading spirit clad in white had outlawed.
See the world ahead of his bald head, climb that brown hill and behold the Godly heights even the brown hill kneels before.

The beauty of the green hills you crawled after
Is now behind the bars of the material seekers you walk with
Whose sandpaper cheeks childhood softened
With kisses as many as the cities their
Rusty jeeps had seen, grunting with every upshift,
With an upshift of life in trail.

Your hands hold but the inside of your pockets-
You'd rather have your freshling years to hold on to.
You draw air into your burrow through the new paths you walk.

Your lips are rugged, your breath is dry-
The rocks are rugged, the stream is dry.
Love forbids you any trouble but you long for love to forbid itself.
The gospels of the folk give to and take from the blare and roar of the city.
In your mind, from your heart, only one muddle of feelings sways you.
This feeling you never get when you are party to peopled revelries.
This feeling you never get unless your city lives in you.