Mustard fields, Winter winds
The air scanty,
Seeking grace.

Dimly-lit avenues,
Eerie and serene,
Light is what they seek,
Although their roots, meek.

A twinkling scandalous lash,
Arose from the bushes,
Her ears sprung up in unison,
Could hear all from a mile,
I stood there gazing a-while.

Her skin shone,
Silhouetted by the light of the moon,
This memory, wont fade any soon,
I knew, I knew.

The Sound of silence, profound
As she coyly gazed at this alienated figure,
Careful, alert,
Wondering, if he would rant or hurt.

I saw her flee,
Gay and Free,
Not much to learn or so I thought,
From then on, Her silhouetted figure from the fields , I sought.
-Anirudh Shankaran


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