In India, You Slip

In another town, another

place, I saw You

unexpectedly; for a time

with a toothless grin, and then

with elegance wrapping You round, You

sat with such poise and then gone – again.

And then Your trace graced my glance

racing to catch You on mother’s

lap in rickshaw.

But no.  No one is fast enough to

snag You, let alone bag You.

In market’s noise, in traffic’s throes, in

India, You slip between like the child

You are, running your father’s errand – You

skirt past me, again and I, I

am caught.