by Tarini Iyengar
[box]When she, the river, meets him, the sea, love is born. For the spectator, the sight is poetry . Tarini Iyengar describes the beauty.[/box]She ran through the sloven bushes
Unmindful of what lay beneath her;
the undulations tearing her apart.
Split, she would, only to teem up
with a greater force that got her
back in form. She ran along…
And every time she met him, He
was there, waiting for her, open-arms.
She flung herself at him…. Always.
They intertwined and soon
she was lost….no more that
slithering beauty that she had been.
Nonchalant, I was beside her,
perched on a boulder. Drunk
in passion, they whirled in joy
uncaring of my formidable presence.
I pelted stones at them….
…. and they….whirled past my feet.
I looked down at them and
they looked up at me. But
there was this someone….
beyond them… within them…
I paused. He paused, then moved along.
I smiled. He carried his smile through his marathon.
