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The Poetry Page
Manohar Khushalani
Whisper
She comes like a whisper riding on the wind
Quiet and nervous as a butterfly amongst the bees
She looks hither and tither ever so softly
as a feather twisting in the breeze
MK, New Delhi, Spring, 1971
The first whiff of Matured Wine
Thou art like the fruit of a heavenly tree
Sweet as nectar
Matured like old, but distilled, wine
Yet,
You fill my being with such freshness
That I think of thee whenever I get…
The first gust of morning breeze
The first ray of morning light
The first whiff of a bud about to bloom
The first tumble of autumn leaves
The first rustle of swinging trees
The first flutter of a bird’s wings
The first shuffle of a baby’s feet
Thou always rest …
ever so lightly on my thoughts …
Like a fluffy feather wobbling in the wind
Oh Lord …
Thou may not have been the first impression in my life
but, thou art the last word all right
MK, New Delhi, 1st September 2001
Editor: Manohar Khushalani
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