The Lost Notes
Those lost notes
by Santosh Bakaya
The wind, as though in a drunken stupor
Stumbles on to the windowpane.
Why is it beating its head against the pane?
Is someone dead, someone in pain?
A vulture wheels overheard
And the Jhelum bleeds red
As darkness descends
In a sweep relentless.
A panoply of verdant profusion
Tries to shine with a faux brightness.
But my heart weeps.
As bleak darkness creeps.
Poems roam the dark streets orphaned
Hunting for those lost notes
Drooping spirits, shoulders stooping
Only to fall silent on curfewed lips