She has visited hotels across the world
With great star rating, resplendent in beauty,
With organized landscaping
And a balance of the five elements.
Yet she found not a place as comfortable as
A little house with thatched roof,
Mattress on bed made of dried grass,
Furniture few and rustic,
Where the beautiful scent of forest lingers.
Cuddling her quill, peace suffusing her entire persona,
She weaves a mystery all around herself
And looks at the crescent moon.
She has tasted all the cuisines cooks can offer,
The delicious vegetarian and non-vegetarian foods,
Served in dishes the east or the west plan for,
Yet, nothing could surpass a melange of Indian dishes,
Served on a green banana leaf where
The only forks and spoons were the dexterity
Of the five fingers which allowed not
Even a grain of rice to fall on the table.
She has known friends of variegated ranks,
In our present society, of different characteristics,
However, she found no companion as companionable
As sweet solitude,
Which always strikes a chord deep within her.
The sea, pure and profound, wilful, knows it,
So do the purple clouds hovering over
The Wudang mountain monastery in China.
While time ticks away at her own speed,
Eyes dreamy and lips moist,
She fashions her writing turning it into
A reunion with others of epic proportion,
With beauty beyond measure
And grace beyond infinity.