Near this window, mysterious,
the sun is always mild,
be it the summer, be it autumn
or the sunlit break in the midst of rains.
The wind here, near the window, always a friend
bringing mists of fragrance, aroma of rains.
The silent window that sees all, that speaks to all.
Between writing and looking up at the sky
is the thought of you
dwelling in your spirit world,
asking me in your mystical remote sensing of my world,
why is there no alert from my side.
Why do you wonder? You should always know, my window is open to the sky and you
Sushama Karnik
the sun is always mild,
be it the summer, be it autumn
or the sunlit break in the midst of rains.
The wind here, near the window, always a friend
bringing mists of fragrance, aroma of rains.
The silent window that sees all, that speaks to all.
Between writing and looking up at the sky
is the thought of you
dwelling in your spirit world,
asking me in your mystical remote sensing of my world,
why is there no alert from my side.
Why do you wonder? You should always know, my window is open to the sky and you
Sushama Karnik
Will it rain ?
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