Penance

Penance short poem

Photo by Rusty Darbonne


The nip in the air, the shying sun
Was not long ago when it was fun
Winter in Delhi with its November sun
Making hearts flutter for almost everyone

Misty evenings made mysterious still
With heady fragrance of the saptparni or alstonia
Making you long for a window sill
So you could just sit and enjoy the winter’s thrill

Sad but true, through pollution and smog
What shying sun, what fluttering hearts,
What nip in the air, what heady fragrance,
What with cloth held to your nose
Almost as if in penance

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