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The Potter’s Alley

In the cool heat of one night,

Blank clouds killing the moon’s glow,

          The bad past was feeding

On my hopes of love,




It could have been my last dusk,

             In the city that broke my heart,

I could have begun hating that town,

             Which I had loved since the start,


Walking down straight away,

          From God’s excellent factory,

An angel descended to me,

         Behind her a fading trajectory,


One look at her and I know I was hers,

     One single gaze and she left me amazed,

One astonishing moment and

                                                  I was in love,


                     She moved away, moved far,

Made another turn, and looked again,

With the promise of meeting again,

                       With the assurance that

The last moment was spent not in vain,


My footwear unclean, my heart pure,

                 Her clothes filthy, soul chaste,

Losing that moment of the night,

                 In the quest to prove our purity,

Awaiting the day, awaiting some day,

To gain love, to lose sanity,

       For we were not thieves

            To plot in the dark,

               We were honest lovers

And shall wait for the dawn,


 The potter’s alley

                    where he worked,

                            Carving out pots from clay,

                                    That place, love, at its own pace,

Sculpted an image of her,

In the quiet alley of my heart.


(First published in Moon Washed Kisses Magazine)


One response to “The Potter’s Alley

  1. Arjumand Shett ⋅

    M so proud I was the first person to take this poem in my hands wen it was freshly born 🙂

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