My Dreams

My dreams are no more on sale.
The drummer auctioned his acoustic knell,
The crowds dispersed,
The bidders fled.
My dreams are no more on sale.

The falling star slowed down,
And dispelled all fears that it would mutilate.
Like me, it reassembled itself!
Now in unison, we ignite each other’s faith.
My dreams are no more for sale.

From the peep-hole of my unimpaired sight,
I envisage the promised land not far away.
I command a post that animates:
Calls of encore, saying:
My dreams are no more on sale.

1997

Geeta Chhabra