Down the dark hillock
Under the bower
Solitarily stood
An antique hut
Carpentered in haste
It seemed
With shaggy roof
Fallen apart
Through which
The subtle ray
Slashed in
Yet gloomy in
The fog seeped in
Soaking interiors
Droplets cheered
Under hay roof
Where
The log wall
Could barely bar
The icy breath
Of Himalayan winter
That awakened
The goose over skin
Spent through
The extensive trail
From the commercial plains
Rest!
I sought in
In the dark
Was a meekly burning
Glycodin lamp
Over a log bench and desk
That precariously stood
Barged in
For a cup of
Hot local ginger, black pepper
Hand-made tea
For appetite
Devoured
Chilled potato soup
Thinly garnished
Served by
The wrinkled widow
All shallow
In wait of
Murdered husband
Estranged son
Courteously fed
The exhausted travellers
And it was heaven
At payment of two
I’m nostalgic
As the damp inn
Infused life
In me the tired
Traveller.

 

Prem Prakash Limbu

Prem Prakash Limbu

Prem Prakash Limbu is a poet from Mirik, and Vice Principal of SPDJV School, Lalgola, Murshidabad.

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