By Ashok Bhargava
The sky is a sea
Of charcoal grey waves
Tender and foamy.
Time sits silently
Waiting for the sunrise.
Infinity
Loses its way
On the long
Deserted highway
Where the whimpers
Of the wind
Has been denied
The right to pass
the opaqueness
of surroundings.
We stop to nourish
our souls
with chholey and bhaturey.
