Wind Was High Poem by Aloke Mukherjee

Wind was high—your face tilted up

It gave your hair a lift, disarming,

Drowsy—gradual and deep

I love a gale, a lively girl

Swooping on me.


I cast glance

To your face, a nameless pang

Gripping my heart, I might have the

Seizure, I loved this seizure often.


I entered the hut lit almost,

May be half-lit, you came shuffling

Along, a false reality, a bride. In the twilight.


Forgive me, I love the wreckage aftermath!