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

it ain’t over till it’s over
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