The child’s old sketchbook house had
Rectangular windows, on either side
With the rectangular door between.
Rails rusted for decades ,letting in sun
Every dawn , with relentless shadows.
A woman’s face is faint behind them.
Her eyes were screwed on road by hill
A narrow path with a palm skirting it
That bent with fruit in frond outline.
The sky had hints of monsoon clouds
But rain would have to be postponed
Till a man arrived to the waiting eyes.
Everything was narrow in the scheme
And the birds in V’s were frozen in sky.
There was no relief for woman’s eyes.