Sunday, June 3, 2007


They have named me.
And I don't really care.
Are they right?
I am not wrong, I know.

I walk on the streets
At my own pace.
No hurry to reach home.
Who is waiting there for me?

I dream, quietly,
And I let them remain dreams.

I think of my old school bag,
To put all my dreams in it,
And throw it away.

I haven't reached home yet,
And I don't feel like walikng,
I want to sleep.

Where the dreams lie.
On orphaned footpath,
In bloomin buds,
Bellow beckoning moon,
On gold beaches,
On blue silver waves in sea.

Am I careless?
Ask them.
They care, not me.

And when I die,
Tell them to inscribe,
On my grave-

1 comment:

INDR's Angels said...

hi ! very good post again.
simplicity reigns here with the deep reflections of a dreamer.
I did not get the last line though(guess the summers have drenched my brain dry).
keep this style intact.
cheers !