The Trail of The Lost Cyclists 

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
amazon.com/author/kushalpoddar_thepoet
Author Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe

 

 

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