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The mountains galloped down today
all around me
riding hard the dragons in the
sun in an armor of mist seeking your
runaway eyes at an edge of my dream.

I grasp shuffling steps in the haze on a
Sunday morning
flea market, the smell of rancid cheese
dewdrops on your hair and perhaps a fleeting
smile when you once looked back
hesitantly perhaps trying to
locate a truant cloud between us.

It was the river flowing within
the city that finally found you in the rampant solitude of a monastery as
my moustache brushed against your
breast in a timeless

Thimphu is the capital of the Kingdom of Bhutan. The river Wang Chu flows within the city.
This poem was published in Kuensel, the prominent daily newspaper in Bhutan.

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