By Sushant Thapa
A fakir sings of life,
In abandon,
He plays his string instrument.
Who said you can't
Pluck a smile and
Garden millions of them?
Writing the pain
And erasing it is
Like the ocean
Washing the shore.
The dew of dawn glistens
After night closes its purdah*.
Autumn's bare fate
Is spring's blooming reason.
Seasons follow one another;
Life sets and shines
Like seasonal sunshine.
Life can bloom,
While you appreciate
Waiting on a bench,
Under the reddish
Rhododendrons
That decorate and
Light up the landscape.
The seashells long to be collected!
*Curtain
Sushant Thapa writes poetry, book reviews and flash fiction. He has an M.A. in English from JNU, New Delhi. He is a lecturer of English and Business Communication in Biratnagar, Nepal.
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