W-mobile in the air
The W is moving,
High up in the air,
Fast and graceful,
As a ballerina
On the stage,
The W-moving is the
Blurred pigeon,
Against the dark
Massed-up clouds,
Circling in the ether,
Flexing its twin wings,
Perfectly-coordinated;
The tiny W moves around,
Effortlessly,
Up above the grilled window,
Watched by a lonely child,
On that memorable
2 September-2012,
A lazy Sunday;
The W-mobile
Flits,
Dips,
Soars,
And then—
Vanishes in the vast
Blue sky,
A kinetic figure
Tiny body swimming in that
Infinity that cannot be seen,
Telling the little boy
To rise
Above the petty, the mundane
And test
The unknown,
Dare to
Fly ,
Despite earth-bound,
On the wings of
Imagination,
To the far-off lands.
This poem captures ,however briefly ,the elusive stuff of daydreams.