Nesting Period

How I think of the tissues
Shall never cease the summer to be stronger
How I pour over me mugs of observation
That’ll remain thick on my skin
Till the voluptuous sun settles over the tea-hills..
The train shall take me away
Like time coached on a three-tier sleeping berth
And the earth lying abreast clad in green puberty.

The invitation tangles in my hair
My wooden bangles longing to grow leaves
Under your flowers
Till now your brown eyes take me on a
Ferris-wheel ride
Over a locomotive swirl and cushioned seats
Wait for few more hours till you become lamp
Over the neat dark stretches and streets

How I think there is a flower
In every dispensary of life
Every Calfornia, every Venice
Cannot be the nest in you
Cannot be what the only exception where
A feminine would love to surrender
For petal monuments and ink spots…

Few more hours and the four eyes would meet
Should the lips seek to greet
The Indian way?
Till the contour is demolished
Or shall it be nationalized
On a cold dark bed
When the gospel-worms would freeze?