When the Dusts arose…

The dusts arose,
The aeroplane bull-dozed
the dreams of the tea-seller.
Lemon and ginger stroke back
and the moon went down
To Earth.

You rhymed with your tea,
Parrying the intrusion
and drank the dreams;
When we met last night,
I, curled up in your blanket
while you trimmed your beard
and we heard the aeroplane
Knocking at our door.

The news was a stale one,
Like the dew drops
painted in saffron;
My curls fell like chrysanthemums
upon a rosy Kashmir.
You made love to them,
Swilling the music of rebellion
We created;
And sent back the aeroplane
To terrorize
Our countrymen already dead,
Embracing their own euthanasia—
That button of the ballot box.
So we went for a morning walk together
And drank tea!!

NaPoWriMo Day 21 ; Poem 21

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