SOUND

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

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