It came dashing


It came dashing
round the corner of the street,
gliding effortlessly over the cacti fence,
entering into the chaotic traffic with ease.
One among thousands like it,
yet distinct in its path and chime,
carrying fragrances and images.
Sepia versions of truth and time
beating out persistent, haphazard rhymes.
Muscling frail, dutiful ones out of its way
with its tsunamic , sweeping sway.
Loud honking failed to divert its track.
It punched me before I had time to act.
Determined it was, like an adamant child,
clinging relentlessly to the fabric of the mind.
Though I tried hard to shake it off,
in vain like a cheetah licking away its spots,
it reversed the tables and shook me hard
right down to my very soul, leaving its scar.
It was an orphaned, homeless thought
that the breeze bore upon its feisty cart
entering my heart, unbidden, unsought.

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