Pensive Poet Poem by Saroj Padhi

Even now he waits at the old bus-stop

like a mad man waiting for Moon at noon

for the music from her silver anklets

down the steps

to excite those unique beats

in the crazy corner of a youthful heart

for the lazy, secret, solitary croon;

the walks along the college garden

when startled, the frescoed butterflies

flew away from the dahlias and roses

to the petals of her cheeks in red blush

when Time was drunk with the musky breath

oozing from clammy cells

in youth's frenzied bloom;

the first Study-Center smile

that gave many sleepless nights,

those walks along college street

as she confided the next day's secret tryst

mindless about the staring public

and blinking lights;

those nights of wait on wild grass

for the Sun to rise from her hostel window

and that moment under the peepal at bus-stand

when she came as a wind

blindfolding his eyes from behind, with musky hand

as he composed his first sonnet under its shade

with scarlet words that for her inside so madly bled.