Ode to Lutyens' Dew

The morning dew

lounges in her hammock

at Connaught Place,

it's still winter, a Sunday!

I search for coffee,
but skip breakfast, or did I?

Wow, I did jump a few signals,

to enjoy the smiling traffic

-- a few vintage cars

and dogs of Lutyens' Delhi.

Ode to the monsoon wind

The moist wind,

laden with words

for a memoir,

reaches me through

the long corridor
that begins at Connaught Place,

stretches onto adulthood

at the cubicle end of KG Marg.

One, two, too many

man hours later,

the dusty opaque spectacles

give way for a greener tint.

It's monsoon outside,

winter in here.​