A Sonnet for Lord Krishna
In this valley of steel, concrete and glass
There are certain places hidden in shadow
Ordinary doors we are tempted to pass
Nothing draws us into them that we know
But we pause as we walk on by and turn
As if our feet move on a well known vale
We slip through their frames and inside we learn
They are passages to places beyond our pale
Quiet, we move inside their familiar embrace
They smell of mountain streams and Simla pine
The scent of curry caresses our face
We sit on the floor, strangers in a line
Beyond a simple door we discover
A feast to celebrate Radha's lover
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