There Is A Block Of Sun

on one wing of my building

a long rectangle of light

from the bed in my mother’s room

where I lie reading

I see another block of sun

on the building opposite mine

and in the evening

across the choc-a-block

stretch of buildings

in Jogeshwari

all the way into the far distance

the light plays and plays

with the faded colours

of whites, orange-pinks, blue-greys

right till the very end

where nothing more can be seen

but the sky

hanging like a sleepy eye.

 

The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).

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Now To Take

this happiness

this room of red

humming beautifully

through the dark

to a tailor

and ask for pants

would be to find

deep pockets

in the world

where I could go

to rest.

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).