In the Garden

Nothing could hide the capricious form,
Even though, dusk was rolling on.
At first, my ears felt its presence,
Then, in no time,
I saw the bird shine in mid-air.
Steadfast wings flailing gently.
Swarthy beak long and curved.
The gliding image devised a formative dream,
Wearing a black and white robe.

In singing counts,
I heard the voice,
Pure and sweet as the air.
Calling out, in melodiousness:
‘Tee-Tee-Tian, Tee-Tee-Tian’,
Heedless and all alone.
Gleaming in the memory’s lane,
Forever, my stroll in the garden will look around,
For the chance guest to re-appear.

Ras Al Khaimah
07th April 2010

Geeta Chhabra