Continue from Stopping by the Hills on a Cold Evening
Whose lands these are who cares actually
He lives in the capital probably
He will not allow me stopping here
And trespassers will be shot surely
My cab driver must think me queer
To stop without a motel near
Between the roads away from home
The dark and mist instills the fear
He turns his head and raises brows
To ask if there’s some sorrow
The only other sounds’ that sweep
Of hounds barking and family rows
The roads are treacherous, dark, and deep
And my promises are all fulfilled
Now take me home and let me sleep
Now take me home and let me sleep
Vishal Gupta
10th June, 2020
