“You’ve got to follow that dream, wherever that dream may lead.” ~ Elvis Presley
She wanted us to sing her song. “I have the lyrics and music”, she said.
An old faceless lady from foreign lands.
So we walked up the stairs of a quaint cafe.
The counters were clean;
The art around felt, not seen.
Down another flight of stairs;
Back to the ground and further under.
It’s world the fabled beanstalk;
Both above the ground and below.
Our belongings on a bench;
Our souls bare, undone, beheld.
Before we knew it the work was done.
Although, you had to stay and I had to go.
I hugged your fragrance and smiled to show,
I am enamoured by you, more than you know.
Although I catch up too slow,
For a change your embrace
Lacked the inhibition to feel.
Unhindered, unfettered, unpeeled.
You wanted something of mine to keep.
Although I sifted through my bag to seek,
Going through yours before mine by mistake,
I found none in either could be given away.
One more hug and we spiraled back
up the stairs to the ground above
which had no exit except a view of the road.
So further up to the floor above,
Where the counters were clean;
The art around felt not seen.
I didn’t look back; no further goodbyes,
I had somewhere to be; I dont know why.
The only rickshaw that stood in view.
The driver jumped down from the shop above.
No exit on the ground here either, I presumed.
In a flash he was with me; my purpose resumed.
He said my name and confirmed my booking.
Dumbstruck I asked what fare he was cooking.
The metro line was quicker and cheaper instead,
I made a run for it and woke up in bed.
Love
Wumbaya
Notes:
23rd July, 2021
Kodaikanal
Journal of Dreams
To be honest, I usually have the most weird dreams. Often I see entire movies play out during the night and wonder that if only I could have put it down in words, I`d have a script in my hands for a possible box office hit. But who has time in life to put in all the effort these days. Especially if you wake up thinking of how to make it to the bathroom for a piss urgently. And as soon as you do that, of course, the memories of the dream split into a thousand droplets of mist, dispersing into oblivion.
This time when I woke up I quickly collected my experience, brief as it was. And very vivid indeed. Took me about an hour to fine tune it. I must say that once written, a work, such as poetry has a life of its own entirely. And any contradictions are merely due to individual perspective. I cant deliver justice to the thought processes of everyone and sometimes one just has to take that leap of artistic indulgence. Rest assured in ways that only I can fathom (and perhaps some of you) I seem to have complete and total justification for the limited use of my vocabulary in expressing what I felt I must.
I do hope you enjoyed it. If you have any queries for the purpose of verbal jousting or whatever, feel free to tickle me in comments below.
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