Near that bend of Road*

Near that bend of Road,
Found You, good ol' jolly man,

How You looked at us,
Your stare, wonderous,
Age had certainly made
Crow's feet around your eyes,
That stick, your walking's companion
In morns, afternoons soft,
Must know you all too well,
Your climbing up the hills,
Knowing each and every road
Of Thy village, thy greens, thy forests,

You had seen many ,
Coming to the hills,
You had seen all people from plains,
Having fun and frolic just,

But kneeling was probably you thought,
One should ask,

Specially at that bend of the road,
A risky terrain,
With a Cross right there installed
Many many years ago by a French Missionary,

And i , while having a conversation
With your eyes and face,
Not knowing your language proper,

How you made out,me,
So easily,
Only by your gaze,
You looked at me,
And murmured
Peace,

The only word,
That i heard proper,
All other gibberish,
Didn't matter to You,

To me, however,

That One Word Thine,
Mattered the Most,

And last, before going Away
Whence I made a humble request,
To look at my Lens,

O how you looked,
O how you my Heart took.

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