Riding On Your Motor- Bike Poem by Neela Nath Das

The breeze is blowing
as the blessing of
the god!
The avenue of lush green
is touching our hands,
a series of cloud overhead...
You and me- - on the bike.
My body has stuck with
yours and your warmth
is flowing to me.
The clouds above us
are changing their colors...
Bluish black, blackish grey
with a halo of the sun
behind their bay.
On High way we are!
The wind whistles
as speed lends us this
sound to our ear...
You and me
and the road, the series
of cloud, none on the way.
The painted hills stand
as the guard of the
forests near....
We cross them thru the
serpentine paths
breaking the silence
of the sleeping houses.
The clouds do not leave
us chasing all the way
with the silver line of
the sun changing shapes
and colors locking
the light of the day!
When we reach the tree-house
I think, we can escape the
rain, but the naughty
series of clouds
start dripping
to drench us in the
naughtiest way!
One two three...
They fall on my nose,
on my cheeks.....
The number becomes
countless! !
Your body is
the only source of
warmth to me.
The ceaseless rain
and the blurred view
stop us beneath a tree.
The sound of the downpour,
the forest, the hills
become the lonely
companions on this day!