Cabin In The Woods

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A holiday in a log cabin is momentarily interrupted by the thought of looming Reality.
In the morning, a faint light enters our wooden heaven
Chides with its tendrils the sleeping sheets,
Whispers a secret of cedar-love, of bread-crumbs and tea.
The silence outside, a lullaby to drowsy senses.
Though pine-trees purr and dragonflies march,
In our cocoon of drunken stupor, we sleep.The Thought of waking up visits my dream
Laughs on the swing outside, tied to the oak-tree.
It peeks over the cliff overlooking gray-snake-roads
Wonders at this beauty, too far from home
Shivers in the cold, lacking a comfort berth
Then curls up between us, like a child in mirth.

The orange lamp saw it all; my tears, your gloomy pall
Such secrets hate to be remembered or spoken out loud
Vestiges of a not-new story. But why this intrusion of
Reality — the cabin repels it all. So I wonder now,
How long could beauty wait outside the window
How long could we keep the world out, my love?


Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you too have a poem you’d like to submit, do mail us at

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