Star pointing

We like to point precisely at wife
Flickering with saint a little dimly,

Not too bright for his effulgence.
We like to show the milk spilled

In the sky’s highways carelessly,
Our space vehicles lost in them.

We like to see boy on king’s lap.
A step mother pushes him away

And now flickering star material.
We have not done with pointing

To a wide eyed child of disbelief.
Our eyes are lost in spilled milk.


About nisheedhi

Retired banker with poetry and photography as chief interests
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