The Trail

By Nandita Bondre

They expect me to sit at home,

To simply exist and be jaded 

But I wanted to write a perpetual poem,

Till my inscrutable trail is faded 

The mountains keep on taking my name,

Again and again inside my head 

But for me a room of four walls won’t light up the brightest flame,

If I don't come out of it, I am probably rotten and dead.

The sea keeps on making a sound,

A sound to challenge me to swim,

For I am aggravatingly bound,

To stay in my house, with a light very dim.

Please don’t ask me to explain sciences

Please don’t call me a maniac,

All I can do is continue my trail for ages,

Or my wild dreams of the trail will lose its track.

By Nandita Bondre