A traveling mind

By Ishan Jadhav

I was puzzled and peppy,

When some old bits of my life travelled to me,

Through the shop’s glass I looked,

Straight into the copper lit room, peeking,

When the streetlight had gone,

And desolate was the street, a little cold too,

I had hoped for good, and a little warmth,

That the gramophone from the shop emanated,

It transported fractions from my mind,

Like boxes levitating in the air,

Floating towards the pure invoked emotions,

They will reach the old edifices of my life safely,

Only if the gramophone doesn’t stop playing,

And the cool night doesn’t mist the glass between us,

Some more boxes departed my mind,

Fragile feelings in those boxes at first,

Bigger ones of burdens then, followed by insecurities,

They levitated all the way, peacefully,

And with those boxes left, my identity too,

Till my mind was empty ,

And the gramophone’s song had ended.

By Ishan Jadhav