My heart often wanders at places you would least expect it to be—

at the edge of 𝘈𝘮𝘮𝘢's sky blue chiffon pallu

hanging like a dreamcatcher that would never let go off the dreams woven inside it

in the nooks and corners of every street, every lane

wandering like a refugee who believes 𝘓𝘢𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦 and 𝘈𝘮𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘢𝘳, both fall on the same side of the border

inside museums, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘴 and 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘴

observing each artefact, each sculpture

like an artist would admire it's muse

on the banks of 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘨 where pious waters of the 𝘎𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢 and 𝘑𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘢 meet

floating, raring towards one another like two jilted lovers

my heart is everywhere-

dancing between 𝘎𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘣'𝘴 verses

swooning over 𝘍𝘢𝘪𝘻'𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘻𝘮s

dreaming about 𝘈𝘮𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢'𝘴 poetry

behind closed doors

beneath wings too huge

above the sky too high

for I am a wanderer-

𝐅-𝐎-𝐑-𝐄-𝐕-𝐄-𝐑