Verandah Poem by Golaka Acharya

A strange verandah
old and vanquished eyes
toothless sunken cheeks
looking at the road
years of hunger dancing in front
and
thirst for all unachieved
dazzling like bubbles in the teary eyes
they assemble and sit.
'Afternoons'carry afternoons.
Always a night waits.

Looking at the distant milestones
they listen
this is not the road, the other was.
How could they return with the same flesh
to ten or twelve.

I see a lump of MY flesh
there;
on the same verandah
my childhood, my youth
all I see;


1-04-2009 Keshadurapal