Before blooming the waterlilies
lean and adjusts the hefty for a while.
The lily pad shivers. A shadow leaps
from its velvet. It rains. My friend
told me only the lost cyclists can reach
the spot. I never acquired the balance
and the skill of pedaling. Sometimes
I too lean before picking up my trail.
I toddle toward the pond, trade
my composure for the leaves stuck
in my hair with the wind. Far, somewhere
between the right track and the wild berries
an escapee umbrella marks its secret territory.
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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor
Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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Author Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe
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