I sit cross legged
On the broken wall
I look at the setting sun
Sinking into the distant mists
I wonder why the Sun God is in such a rush
AS the day dies into twilight
I hear the rustle of the neem leaves
As the slight breeze weaves through them
The tree behind me, the wall beneath
I close my eyes
And feel the crimson blaze
I my mind's eye
I hear my blood coursing
And smell warm wafts of a hot meal
Night settles slowly
Cooling my face
I open my eyes
The visions fade
My feet are numb
It's a dusty road behind
I taste the grit
On my homeward trudge
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