You left before the winter ended
The pen hadn’t finished the last couplet
Now I move among the shadows
Jokers laugh at the pathos.
The four beige walls with ears
Celebrate the lipstick mark and tears
Your stories I cannot frame
We won the war and lost the game.
Half a bottle of golden Scotch
Those moments of loss that you dodge
The broken flute has a last tune
The city without sleep now has no moon.
From a faraway land monsoon brings a song
You slip away and my prayers tag along
The altar is empty, my God went home
I say the last Hello to nobody over the phone.
8 comments:
Outstanding
Loved it...perfect blend of pain and celebration of life...
This is really soothing.....I think You should start putting up on social media too with copyrights....
Thanks Dada. Good idea!
Thanks a lot! Keep the support coming
Thanks. I am humbled
Touching...as if i could feel it..what a poetry !!!
Glad the words connected with you.
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