The Prayer

strange that you wrote to me today.
this morning, I found
those prayer flags
we'd bought at McLeodganj,
was it last year, this time?

I remember the sunset we saw
that evening, the one earring
that fell into the gutter
somewhere, lost forever,
the singing bowl the man
sold to us, with his priceless smile,
and the first snow of the season
that fell, as we held it,
walking into the giggles and silence
of that precious night.

today, I put up those flags,
stringing them across
the doorway, one that opens out
to endless ribbons of blue, and
I watched them flutter happily
in the gentle breeze,
held by the waves
nodding their heads in the distance,
and I said to myself -
'that is prayer enough'.