Rana Pratap Nandi

Waiting for you
by my lonely riverside,
in my twilight mood
motionless, counting the ripples,
tipsy with the musky smell
of first satiated earth.
Lusting for more.
Thinking of you, a few words,
a silver lining, becoming one
with the ivy growths on my
ancient sturdy castle.
A young breeze comes singing
of you and another brings
a tuft of cloud,
sailing on a silver lining.
A piece of white satin
blood and gold seeping through.
And streaks of dusk.