The boisterous weekend bazaar
springs to life with a roar.

Early evening -
the sky
like a broken cable in storm
hanging from the edge of the world.

Four horses, legs tied,
unable to complete the ascent -
the middle of their season of heat.

The sweet-meat vendor filling
curve after curve after curve
with sugar.

Proud of the new watch on his wrist
the little boy standing by his side
will tell the time when asked
correct to the last turn of the second.

Everything so close to perfection
yet so far away
till she turns to my side and says
I don't want to see again
this beard of yours tomorrow.

Samartha Vashishtha