Hippie Day


The breeze is a tourist and it passes us by
We lie in the sand and let it run its inquisitive fingers
through damp hair
Clouds group and ungroup at will
looking down upon sun-swept bodies
some blue and watery, others dotted with sweat

The world with its typical pettiness
tries out tricks with muezzin calls
and digital alarms
but we are determined to lose a day
Earnestness fails to rouse us
We let the beeps ring hoarse
our ears tuned in
only to bird song frequencies

The world enters and leaves
kicking up fallen leaves
while we sleep;
the arms of the sun
wrapped snugly around us
©Reena Prasad


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