The Tick Of Sentiments. Poem by Ravi Panamanna

Over the Western grassy lands
The evening sun sends a flying kiss.
My thoughts unto a distant land fly,
The sprawling meads of Scotland are seen,
The bliss of solitude is deeply felt.

Upon the lap of gentle winds,
On the backdropp of graphite hills,
I am seeing a singular hamlet.
There, a brook is whispering unto the dales,
There, a lonesome bird is in a long flight.

Presently a farm house is seen,
Soft, whispering voices are heard.
In the garden a tall, old man is seen,
He is taking his evening stroll,
He is breathing the soft winds.

The fog is thin,
The distant peaks are silver plated.
His dog is sharing the warmth of the hour,
His walking stick is making solemn notes,
His glances are following the twilight sky.

His blue, dark eyes are deep,
A distant thorp falls in its glassy planes.
Outlined by a thin forest
A rill flows closing itself under a red hill
Where stands an old estate bungalow.

In that far off hamlet
Where clouds sleep on mountain tops,
Where the sun rises among the hills,
His Love is in eternal sleep there,
He has left behind the chariot of his life.

I presently see a postman open the garden gate
And hand over a parcel- a brown packet.
On seeing the Indian stamps affixed on it,
The old man is excited, his eyes are lit
And flings open it in a trice.

A time-piece peeps out of it,
A tick of bygone era envelopes him.
A silent note of love is heard,
An oceanic sweep is instantly felt
And the old man emotionally embraces it.

The pageantry of memories begin their parade,
A heart lost in the dales of life is again found.
Glassy eyes of the old man overflows-
The bowers are once again alive,
The tick of sentiments is once again heard.

A monument of sublime love,
It is a piece of living memory now.
Buried in a far off dale,
It is a long, whispering tale,
The face of his dear wife unveils.

It is a poem worth elegant verses,
It is a clear whiff of his bucolic lore.
It was this time-piece that linked them
And who cannot treasure such living symbols of love?
Who cannot own it as his very heart beat?

21/06/1987.