An elusive presence, swayed like a paper rose,
visceral in lavender-grey
at the wind-washed doorway
of the running train; speed tamed
miles of rhapsody into prose. 

Dusk behind the Agra Fort 
was dressed in whispering gold dust,
fragrant with ancient incarnations.
The thirsty sequins of her flowy skirt
absorbed moist sandy dirt.

Footfalls of speeding time ran
along the tracks, - old.
The journey, clung as a skeleton
to the metallic miles, - cold.
Colour of wind turned mauve.

The black scarf of absence
caressed the paper-rose presence.
Green tresses of the flowing wind among trees
traced the brows of the Taj, -
possessed by anguish of blue ease.

Yard after yard of stolen dreams
lay squared among the vast expanse
of shimmering dissolved pride.
Treasured absence whispered silky breath,
warm, on the shoulders of sightless presence.

©Kakoli Ghosh

Published in GLOMAG, October 2019