The Wait Poem by Hem Raj Bastola

Come imagination! come
To nurse my wound of reality
For the moment I seek
Flood of current in veins
Wind is kissing to the skin.

Resuscitating my life
Come imagination! come
Left me not weird please,
And sterile my wait,
Many years friendship now
Seems you are going to break
Sour I do not wish to taste
Let not that phantom be phantom
For I am seeking real to make.

Come imagination! come
Take me to your wings, the welkin
How am I to replace my eyes?
Substituting into a reverie
Come imagination! come
A single kiss of your illusion
Could rejuvenate the life.

By the river I can see
In the stump of a dead tree
Come imagination! come
A kingfisher waiting.