Fingers-Crossed... Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

I am pretty sure
the narrow alleys before my eyes
will open up into big paths.
And the flickering light in the hope-lamp
will turn out to be a big sun...
The mellow beam that allures off the shore
will come down and smear with silver love all over.
All the twinkling stars that now adorn only the ceiling
will have wild wings and fly into the yard of endless firmament.
The flash of thumps up will fall right on the parched forehead.