i had told you again and again that we must run
far away
where will that be, you had smiled mischievously
sandstorms that might hide us
to a landscape beyond its end
ragged hills on a camel back
to nights and days closing in one
half open dreams
in pursuit
and you and me
to an anotherland
loving, you said
will always be these torturous streets
palace spires that hold the
muzzeins cry
whitewashed walls
of our shadows
that bind us
and kisses that we
steal sometimes
under a livid

Amitabh Mitra