this leaf-basket of Marigold’s floated by me as i sat with my ankles dipped in the freezing cold waters of the Ganga at Haridwar… it’s brightness seemed a bit cheeky against the dull grey waters of the river that pretty close to it’s lowest level, as dry months of March and April was fast approaching. The flowers probably meant as an offering at a temple had got away! the bobbing basket seemed like a willful little girl out to explore and find her destiny…….
Bright sunlight ,
Shadows and reflections of the sun,
Calmness of the waters
Leaving ripples all undone,
But I am floating on……
People calling out
About appointments never kept,
Fingers reaching far to see
What they can get,
But I am floating on……
Chants and whispered prayers
Along the river edge,
Lilting temple bells
Among the aromatic incense smells
But I am floating on…..
Memories of hills
Beyond the river bend,
Sacred bubbling streams
With stony gravel beds
But I am floating on…….
‘Nothing can keep me’
She whispers as she goes
Time swiftly follows
As she flows,
Petals will fade, and the green will go;
‘I am on my journey,
To others endless it may seem
But that doesn’t bother me,
I am just floating on …….
2Words2Soon 