How long has it been since wood excited me ?
Since the colors painted,
Sounds and smells around me ?Brass in its luster seducing.
Stone in all its coolness, pacifying.
That muddy smell,
The erotic weathered paint,
Intoxication from an antique object.
One old unlikely embossed tanjore
reminds me of a kingship.
Gold, rubies and reckless diamonds.
Ah the moth eaten carpets.
Have they become more beautiful with time.
The faded silk and some knots missing.
Those chipped ceramics andplastered faux
These are not the object of a Japanese king, appreciative,
But a broke indian king, spent.
It is a beautiful melody, dying.
A fragile dream, awaiting the intrusive morning.
I too shed a single tear
A silent protest
A helpless lover.