a hot and high delhi night
one dreams dark are made of
follow it must a new dawn...
a mild wisp not a breeze
thats sways dry tree leaves
a sky blue of fake clouds
a shimmering hue orangesque
hopes of a mild sun streak
the dogs are restless
the crows are harping (or whatever crows do)
the dog feeder a simple man
the tea stall owner a poor man
the paper is hauled
the pots are watered
a growing hustle of morningers
few are up to relax and run
most bound by demands of work
my view is biased
perched i am 3 floors up
an eagle atop the tower opines
is he right or am i?
