a crowded market
has never been
my cup of tea
This one time I did—
I was handed a parasol
whose long handle
reached up to the sky
The parasol—
made out of a thick
colourful fabric and
filigree borders
Carrying it—
I started walking,
feeling relaxed,
through the market
White horse—
out of nowhere
perhaps sent
by a rain god
On horseback
one hand
holding the reins
the other
the parasol
Passing through a meadow
the white horse
carried me swiftly
as I smiled
embracing freedom
in my heart
The parasol
unwavering
stood tall
in my hand
like a victory banner
carried by
an ancient warrior
I rode the wind
through the meadows—
the parasol unfurled