A moment’s notice…

Often, poetry
is a question of waiting.
Say, the rain streaked

the view from your desk, and
a wide eyed pigeon
cooed, from its nook

in the balcony
opposite, where the old lady
standing alone, suddenly

collared you studying
her wrinkled face, and
smiled in return.


Posted on April 6, 2006, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. aaah, nice! i love hoarding memories of great moments 🙂

  2. Nice 🙂

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