Leprosy

The fingers of hand

Got putrid and

Dropped off.

Then I realized

A lot many letters,

The important ones,

Remained unwritten.

The gods of stones,

And the temples of the stones,

All inside the town,

You and I,

All flesh and blood,

Both outside the town,

How?

Nobody knows where these paths lead,

That way,

We have no permission to enter

Any town.

Towns were never ours, anyway.

Only the streets are our friends,

Could take a nap anywhere.

How late I realized,

The movements in mind

Are not to be disclosed,

To anyone.

Coming to the edge of town,

Have to talk to the blowing wind,

It carries our movements to the town,

Definitely,

Some day or the other,

And the screams would explode,

No harm in waiting

For that day.

Some friends remained behind,

We, along with the street,

Marching ahead,

How?

Let me tell you the truth,

Some amorous letters to my beloved,

Remained still to be written.