Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Solitary Souls

On the bench she sits secluded, drops of mourning in her eyes
The dark wind in her hair billowing, like the ominous cloudy skies
Sits staring at her entwined fingers, invisible book of fate she reads
Memories, her favourite friend, plays with the young girl in the streets
All the lonely people, where do they all belong
All the lonely people, where do they all begone

Amongst their peaceful resting places, he treads with caution past the names
Where the wind whistles a wild song, you can hear her calling out his name
Placing the bunch of paper flowers, on the stone that seperates the lovers
Like the lamb on the sacrificial altar, swept away under the dusk's covers
All the lonely people, where do they all belong
All the lonely people, where do they all begone

She wanders like the moon across the night sky, reflected in the sea of humanity
Those tranquil eyes yet seem so lost, like ghostly galleons upon stormy seas
Meandering through the stone garden, where her mother sleeps with her friends
The little girl picks up those papery flowers,and sells it to the lady on the bench
All the lonely people, where do they all belong
All the lonely people, where do they all begone

1 comment:

Trinath Gaduparthi said...

We wait and wait
And that is when
your poems turn up
like Mango showers

somewhere there is a girl
with here fingers entwined or not
Even without her
We would sure stop for your thought!