Ma

ma
…a languorous December afternoon and a moment of ease-
here it is
Time, stolen in the kothi at Agra and kept forever:
woven cots with wooden legs, traces of water come and gone, baby Krishna peeking from the window-
and the languid refusal to drift along

often it
feels like the remnant of some ancient era:

she is my shadow and sunshine

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3 thoughts on “Ma

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