On the remotest lane
I found love walking
Hand in hand
Whispering sweet feelings.
Envious street eavesdrop
Meets its beloved on crossroads
In spite of loving each other
Walks opposite with a small hug.
Ohh! What a pity!
They leave in cross
Passing snorty looks
Watching weeds and foliages
Asking; is it love?
Mysterious as usual
They need not explain
To one and all their dilemma
They have to cross and can’t stop
On the four roads
At the circle with a fountain
They have to move.
There are passersby
Waiting for paved roads
For the world to move
On every crossroad
Whisking glances of their loved ones
They contain for one another
It’s duty! They say in whispers.
Not all are fortunate ones.
Kalpana’s imagination.