A heartbeat mingled with
The diving of oars, cutting the
Silent breeze simultaneously
The silent tapping of foot
On the creak board
Echoing, In the ripples of stream
Moving to the undercurrent
Tossing the sand and shells
Lying in the fathomless sea
Tickling sweat on the palms
Of driver unconscious of
Birds chirping in loosing trees
And the hustle of leaves
Underfoot, fallen and lost
Like unfulfilled dreams
Humming of the water bearers
On some far distant beaches
And the screeching nib of ink
Writing down every simple
Unintelligible speech, somehow
I consume every sound, the passing
Time between the seconds which
Cannot be measured in the fleet
There is always something going on
It’s up to subtle mind to feel………..
©ANKITA CHATURVEDI