Holi Sift!

Behold! A corridor of certainty,
between two human indiscretion,
called home by a few hundreds;
while others name them
indulgence of men, whose will
rise higher than the dreams of
even those upper-middleclass gent
in the morning trains to VT.

Blue with shifting silver streaks,
the young sun makes his point,
bringing out the real colours
within the Canyon.
It's Holi indeed for the
specs on the garage floor;
it’s their festival. I slept,
searching for the missing links...

... Two drunk friends, infant summer;
and sounds of childhood
- the thump of waves with
spray reaching my home.