Here is another sky
One different from the city I come;
Its vastness that of a canvas
Painted with twilight hues;
Its thin light spread over barren silent fields
And gleaming silver water;
Its willowy ropes of mist
Glide the lake and mountain peak alike;
Its splintering cold and stillness resonated
In all I could see;
Yet ironically its stillness –
Reverberates the spirit in me;
Its coldness –
Spawns warmth in me;
Its balmy wind, the singing insects and the,
Cheeping sparrows –
Lit my deferred dreams –
As the last bit of dusk ebbed giving way to the dawn
Whence drifted my thoughts back to thunders of my world –
But oh – I wish and I wish
That one day I could call home - the
Orphaned boat by the lake.
