Bemused

by Ashutosh Ghildiyal

What when the lamps burn
And the tides go out
And the rustling of leaves
Creates the sound of music

My forgotten barefoot muse
Goes out of printing
Into sprinting out of its cage
Overpowering itself in its rage

To where lie the clusters
Of unfinished muses
And clumps of unattended bruises
Clambering to meet each other