O’ how that I would wish to be
A Himalayan prayer scarf.
Floating close above each shoulder
Upon the beaten path.
Heart strings woven, badly hemmed,
Into the frays of white and gold.
You’d lie me down upon a teapot,
Listen; the words of a pilgrim, told
Through neck and bedlam. Forsooth I’d live
Upon the aged monks brown skull.
As a hark to battered stories knitted
Into an ancient batch of tulle.
Without knowledge, rhyme, reason or song
Winds would tangle me eastward, still,
Were I discarded, begetting mares
I might land upon your foothill.
O’ that i would wish to be a
Himalayan prayer scarf
I’d take my silky limbs and wrap
Them around your blinding heart.
If value’s placed upon that which
Is enveloped in this Tallit sew,
Then I confess, though I digress
मैं तुम्हारी प्रार्थना स्कार्फ हूँ