Sonal Singh On Sonal's Table
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The lonesome sailboat went out today
To battle, the wind and the sea’s waves.
A tiny body, it has, of wood
All brown and baked as the earth’s crust;
And a massive red, cloth sail
Always, at war with the gusty wind.
The lonesome sailor, rides the high seas
His face parched and wizened with age.
The limpid eyes staring at nothingness,
The little boat quivering to and fro,
Balanced precariously on the crests,
He steers home to the bay’s breast.
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