Silent song of the sky men

A strange winter that was.

The trees bore no fruits
the skies showed no sign of clouds.
Where have the sky-men gone?

I last saw them dance on the mountain peaks

in their cotton-seed light vessels that floated endlessly.
What a song that was
when prayer flags fluttered in the night skies.
I once saw  moon rise from behind the mountain peak
and sing sorrowful serenades to the beautiful valley.

In the city-scape filled with poles
that hold conversations about jobs and new apartments bought.
Where has the carefree noon gone?
A walk alone to where the sky-men lived
a cup of cinnamon coffee,
a winter-flavoured bidi’s warmth
and the truth about why we should live.

My sky-men,

they flew on giant inflated sails

against blue skies and floated above the clouds so high.
The lines like strings of a harp
they played a song so silent,
it floated and nestled in my heart.
I carry in my heart, silent song of the sky-men.
I carry in my palm fortunes intangible.
I carry in my heart only love songs of silence.