Melancholy - Poornima Laxmeshwar

From my window
I see the orange circle
Escape in a blue quilt
Quietly without leaving any traces of its existence

In the frameless sky the group of parakeets shriek
Converse in haste
In those scarlet beaks
They gather the dust of the restless city
With those tiny emerald wings
They move like a floating cloud

Fly to where they belong
As the night gets ready for the performance
With make-up of neon lights, blaring music, endless pegs of vodka
I sit staring from my window
Looking at the reflection
Of my lonely night
Darkness, the flowing river
Shallow as my being

There is no conversation
No sense of belonging
Just the same I
And this unread book of your poetry

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Poornima Laxmeshwar (20th century) India
Source: Poetry Pacific