NAVEL

Wind, a little cool, across the trees

gently calls me ,

leaves fall to call ,

beams stroll along my street

calling me ,

from books to balcony,

to night’s scented ebony

where I meet myself

over a drink of breeze

and talk to self with ease -

about thousand questions that

sought me to reflect

which during day I could not relate.

But now I look within

with beams peeping in

to find metaphors

melting

into my navel

that overflows with honey

in each secret pore

inspiring hues of rainbows galore…

@ copy right : saroj k. padhi. 30/01/15