On My Morning Walk How many people I see on my morning walk They are not known to me Yet they are familiar Their faces leave their traces on my memory They are my companions Without even exchanging a single word. If i do not see a familiar face some day I feel anxious to know, is he sick, has he changed His residence, has he gone on a tour, and sometimes The thought is more sinister, has he gone for good? I feel a strange vacuum. There are other walks of life. I meet strangers there, as no walk Is ever empty. The space I am in is never unpeopled. Even in a secluded spot there are people In the space of memory. But except a few they are vague apparitions Just floating images. Appear like quantum particles Then vanish. The strangers in my morning walk Are no strangers. They are the parts of my walk The images of my walk Like in the genre painting of a Dutch painter.
Posted on: Sat, 19 Apr 2014 01:08:49 +0000
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