Mumbai Bay....

Mumbai Bay The full moon shape hues of dusk falls further away in myriad of hindrances. January is not yet monsoon, my loved, the warm winds play in their forgotten language nearest to the Queen's necklace yet at bay in Mumbai On the west side, other winds are heaving Bollywood grieving, along with the heaviest traffic jam with speech accidents once clad in shades of peace, green, pink and blue I picked a taxi kept the shades inside pressed them into my poetry As I walked on a part of Bollywood boulevard one Sunday afternoon where congregated tongues roamed far and wide they sang praises in St. Mary's church Only St. Mary's church lay bare testimony to my footsteps - I sat on an black wood-bench with hot steam on my fingers, (to melt unwanted words, I reckon) . Two pairs of blackbirds offered company in the comfort of their lovely feathers then flew away Evening fell lightly in dance In this Indian huge country I measured the different tongues, conversations and stories, theirs were too occupied, too complexed, I said goodbye to Mumbai with respect.... ©Sylvia Frances Chan