I need to rest,
I need to begin again.
The days are like long promises,
The thirst-quenching desire
Is the evening breeze
Touching my body.
Too ridiculous to talk about
Bodies making memories with bodies.
Leaving the last train
I wonder astray,
To call the evening my home.
Roofless I aim
For a ground.
I still get the hearth of a fireplace.
The moon is my companion
And I make stars my mutual friend.
A technicality is like the same wind
Whispering sermons in my ear.
The lighthearted playfulness of the air
Makes me walk tiptoe
On the first dewy grass
Of my garden.
My luxury is nature inside my mind.
You can call it ignorance and immaturity,
My maturity is in calling
Simplicity a simple game.
Author : Sushant Thapa
Sushant Thapa writes on Indian Review. Read Sushant Thapa’s poems on Indian Review a literature magazine for all.
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