A Poet’s Host

The boy who lived so sedentary
Wished to soar like a dragon fly
Charmed by the stars in the sky
Lost his joys all rudimentary.

He’s really not an orphan
But a prince of dark life
In pursuit of real life
Escaped into night for fun.

Street lamps got dimmed
Stars all diminished
Long journey he has finished
Drenched in fear overbrimmed.

Is he my dear brother
Crossing several routes alone
Like a mongrel cur for a bone,
Or dear lad of a dead mother?

A law’s minion like a ghost
with a lathi in his hand
In his khakhi dress grand
Chilled his heart the most.

Standing at a lamp-post
The little boy who has lost
All hopes dreamt in the past,
Became a budding poet’s host.