Drive Poem by RAJAT GHOSH

On my way on bike,
When I am on a hike,
Many faces I do like.

Slow should be my pace,
Holding tight accelerator's face,
I am the the driver, the base.

In my mind's abacus,
I count the face's flash,
Every beauty hits with a slash.

When this imaginary drive is over,
Ecstasy does my benumbed body cover,
And Platonic pleasures do then hover.

Beauty faces do I like, like a photographer's cushion
Still faces fade away after short lasting impression.