The Rare Window
by Pushpa Tuladhar
Like the brilliantly washed shirt
Inside out, the woman dries
The window of her room
On the sunny side
The two arms of this shirt
Unfurls in the breeze to suck
The heat from the air
Her eyes beholding
Out of the window
Drinks as if intoxicated by the wine -
The world outside of her window.
By her beauty falling out of her window
Soaked the passerby—
Spoke their eyes in merry
Threw their soft smiles at her
As if responded by her
The poems from their minds spilled
Her eyes without winking
Gaze intently till her eyes grasped
The infinity of silence
Out of her window
Her adoring eyes stalk
On the home coming of her beloved
With the arms of his shirt
Washed in the rain water with white ash
Unfurled the shinning like the torch light
volume 12(9)
May 1, 2008
This poem is copyright © 2007,
Pushpa Tuladhar, all rights reserved.
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