Pigeons in a hot sky
Morning comes
Molten sun
Casts sepia silhouettes
Surreal beauty
Wrought by an atmosphere
Fraught with death
Home in a couple of days
Where battered lungs
Complain for another week
Pigeons in a hot sky
Morning comes
Molten sun
Casts sepia silhouettes
Surreal beauty
Wrought by an atmosphere
Fraught with death
Home in a couple of days
Where battered lungs
Complain for another week
Like waking up
In a strange bed
In a strange room
Trying to find
That one thing
That one point
Of recognition
A silhouette
Bicycle rickshaw
India
Three lives there
Faceless beneath the clouds
Unknown
Unknowable
But for outlines
Against the sky
One drops off the world
Lost forever
To anonymity
But for the unnamed character
Forming in the theatre
Of my mind