The Girl Near the River

With its thousand and one eyes, the night
shoots a fiery dart at a world gone berserk.
Nothing misses it, nothing.
The eyes of a tiny girl, peer through the murk.
Turbulence in her heart, she throws back her head,
veiling her eyes with her eyelashes,
lifts them; hunting for someone
hidden in the shadows.

She shudders, but then her eyes fall on the moon
cruising along; a half-smile brightens her dry lips.
Ah, the moon is now reflected in the river.
The river and the moon confabulate a little.
There is a solemn stillness.
A tiny hoot, a little flutter.
The river mutters some long forgotten songs.
Some words of love.
Lulled by the notes of the river’s lullaby, the boats sleep.
The river keeps pouring its eternal melody;
there is music in its soul, but the festering darkness
pesters the girl sitting hunched
bunched in a knot

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About Santosh

An educationist with a passion for writing , having published some novels for young adults, some essays and some poems. My poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi will soon be published .

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