Santosh Bakaya

THE FOG

PART TWO

Section 15

They keep coming and going with impunity,

Some phlegmatic, some morose and some witty. 

A short, stout woman built like a weird keg of beer 

Shook herself vigorously and ponderously drew near.

“Come on, let the marriage celebrations begin,”

Announced she, her face breaking into a grin.

Everyone was looking forward to the marriage.

There were cars, scooters and one ornate carriage.

There were guests wiry, obese and merrily rotund,

Pale looking, also rosy–cheeked and rubicund.

Their colorful dresses, of social status redolent

With a celebratory fervor, the atmosphere vibrant.

Like a ribbon, the marriage procession undulated,

Happy that a marriage was about to be celebrated. 

On a three tiered cake, a chocolate cupid swung.

Some danced, some talked, others joyously sung.

There was merry laughter as time continued to tick.

With double entendres, the atmosphere was thick.

The fumes of the feast addled many a brain

But about the festivities none could complain.

Music, being the food of love, played on.

Guests danced on and on endlessly till dawn. 

Cicadas chirped, revelers made merry untired.

But the owls hooted, with great ardour fired.

The newly married couple were dizzily euphoric. 

Mesmerized I was by this scene phantasmagoric.

Singing, dancing, laughing on a tree trunk they sunk.

I swayed drunkenly, my voice slurred, was I drunk?

  

The festivities over, all would now drift into sleep.

In sudden bursts, sleep towards me began to creep.

I yawned and drifted into forgetfulness pretty soon.

The clouds started playing hide and seek with the moon.

 Misty Morning -- Mary T. Hoffman