The Dawn Poem by Bipin Patsani

Morning breaks on the lawn
Beautiful and bare
Like a bright blank sheet,
Fresh as it were a baby's palm,
A peach-bloom after a prodigal pause.

What to fill in?
What to paint?
The leftovers of last Winter
When he first visited your neighbourhood?
The primrose promise of Spring?
A mid-summer night's dream?
Or your baby daughter's naughty prints
On your daily accounts?
Life is not only what you are
With your polythene pack privacy
Or the dispositions on the palette.
It is the way you think and look at things
That colours the stream
And generates all possible meanings.
Thus leave it unstained as it is
To be filled in on its own and bloom into fullness
While you watch lost in light
And choosing from the spectrum
The colour of your choice, your own colour.
_____________