These socks, twelve winters old
House my feet from distant dreams
A toe peeks out, as if to ask, who’s there?
And promptly, goes back in
The burrow of time with no beginning

They have seen blizzards,
Long lonely nights,
Interviews that go nowhere
And found faith in the little hearth
Where all things, even dreams grow.

They warm my feet, with an old lady’s heart
Grandmom socks, they ask no questions, and stay inside the hut
Till you see them in the sunlight and exclaim,
How beautiful! And then promptly forget them,
Till the next winter.

Author : Amlanjyoti Goswami

Amlanjyoti Goswami grew up in Guwahati, Assam and studied at Delhi University and Harvard Law School. His poems have appeared in The Caravan, Mint, IQ: The Indian Quarterly, Indian Literature (Sahitya Akademi) and The North East Review. He has also published articles in The Telegraph, The Assam Tribune and The Financial Express. He lives in Delhi.