amitav mazumdar - THE SUNDAY PAINTER

It was a day break from the chores of toil
My neighbour with broad glasses have a soil

A gleam of light when enters slowly and flashes
All the papers rolled like white stacks amazes

There in the hold of the fingers that almost
A feathering touch sways like glossy frost

Nothing comes sometimes the wind pulls in
And the old curtains raises feebly and swings

The sky would peep and the clouds spreads over
My neighbour be in friendly way artfully deliver

In the noon when everything like an infamous death
The choir sang and the cross stood there in a resolute faith-

Wherefrom a thought arrives and leaves an ocean there
And the secrets of land floats like a feather in a rogue air-

My painter neighbour ne'er stop and puts his fingers down
His Sunday lazes and snugs within the easel for a mystic drown

Though I ne'er disturbed him for a while
He explored every Sundays to those dreamstruck miles.

amitav mazumdar

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sunday-painter/