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Clouds where I meet

Disha Malhotra

I have a dream
Enclosed within the golden sheath of light,
It is blissful having a purpose or
a wild conceit, robbing the treasury of life.
Disguised in the vapours of winter Barbeque
beside my sea facing villa,
every morning I dream,
every night I dream,
like a religious intercourse of the mind’s team.
Welcoming through the gates of growth,
Dressed in the mighty lights
Of the lawns filled with my kitchen garden plants,
Sipping the cup of tea with my beloved.
And like a queen
Crowned yet barefooted,
Sitting to write a new stance.
I am startled at the noisy ventilations of my kids,
Fighting over a small lid.
Unlike the city slicker,
Beneath the opera of sky,
Waggling tail of my golden retriever
Playing his mischief and clever.
And with sunroof cars parked in my driveway,
Not one not two at-least six would do.
Hearing stories from my mom-in-law
of Ramayana, Mahabharat or other sacred books,
and how my father-in-law gives a look
on one mis-told fact or proof.
Laughing the day in and out,
Crushing the hypocritic manifestos of the world
on the winding roads of criticism,
Rising above the wishing stars,
When the moon inside me lights up high.
And to ink my new page of liberation,
To be read aloud in the streets of sigh.
I dream to feel complete
But Positivity remains my cloud where I meet.


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