The Sehri Scribbling

The drum is beaten outside.
I can hear it as clear as a bell.
Even as the Khan beats it
To the pitch as high as he can,
I conceive verses for you who
Sit on the cold sill, gazing out of the window and
Looking at the stars above and far to the horizon,
Where the dark sky studded with twinkling buttons 
Appear to meet the ridges of gods-dwelt Himalayas.

My lady, I love you even far and beyond.
My Sehri’s arrival is due. So is our Union.
Sleep barely comes this night or any night.
I keep flipping the pages of Homer
Only to bide my night time.
Otherwise my Helen is you.


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