Panes are readable by the nightfall,
East is catching the sense of shading.
Solar licks are indeed delightful,
Streets are lollipops, slowly fading.

Treat the roads, as my own belongings,
Share a smile with the fate and strangers.
Leave the best for my hope and longing
And the worst for the dogs in mangers.

All returns keep the journey loopy
And the thinking’s in pace with stepping.
As the eyes of the loved ones – groupies,
Hands of watches are droopily-sappy.

Eyes of loved ones create a distance.
God forbid! It’s the last of macons…
Storks are clattering with persistence,
But the old home protracts forsaken.

Clatters fade while the nests grow bigger,
Little beaks are wide-open. Gliding,
Only pain can sustain its vigor
For the journey, as Blue as Monday.

Think of East, when I’m downed and praying,
When it’s nothing to brim, but bounty.
Home’s the best place for love and graying,
But my home’s in a foreign country.

4 June 2009