She sits on the wall
The full moon is over Funchal
Her eyes on me
It might sound odd
Something is moving below my bed
Rabbits, it seems
High on a corner
Watching life passing by
The deity sits still
The midday sun
Surmounts the sacred mandir
In the town’s market place
NB A mandir is a temple
Palms everywhere
Bikes and cows on the highway
Our Indian roads
Highly creative
His ideas challenging
He’s William Kentridge
Ev-er-y day
Surely succeeds yet another
Tomorrow follows