Cold Fire
When night falls, the street light comes on in the hovel
Sipping pure cold fire
Grandpa’s torn coat button shines on the wall
Crack open the memories.
Water stops flowing in the municipal tap
Holding the roof in rain, the brick and stone,
Monsoon puddles go long into the winter
In this filthy muddy lane.
Shivers and lies still Children are there,
Explore the Street miracle, a gallant kingfisher
in flight looking effortless.
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A deftly wrought,engaging and evocative piece.
Vivid and painterly.Apt images create a perfect ambience .
such a touching poem
touching and poignant dear poet, kudos