Lost In The Wake

A newspaper lying on the ground

Titled – “A teenager goes missing…

Missing by fate or missing by choice?”,

An enraged breeze transits the newspaper up

Above and lands it under the feet of

A nomad on a nomad-land. He stomps on it.

A rucksack on his back, rain pouring down, 

Entering through the fabric and flooding

The outfits of his long-long journey ahead. 

 

The golden hour had lured him in 

To accept the pour from above and keep going. 

He was a million miles away from home,

But his mind still had an eye towards home.

The road ahead was aligned by goats and the

Master goatherd leading his team afloat. 

Gradually, the pour receded to droplets 

And the clouds revealed themselves with

The hidden colour palette of the enormous sky. 

 

Beside was a lake turning orange. 

All of their eyes were driven towards the

Metamorphosis of the analogous colours

Of an afterglow, so enigmatically obscure,

And highlighted by a stroke of vibgyor.

His wandering legs seemed at cease. 

He’d found serenity by serendipity. 

For a moment there, he lost himself. 

A long-lost boy, lost in the wake.