This dusk so still and chill
I sit at the doorway
Thoughts triggered
I sink to myself
Down to the last layers
Searching anxious
Beneath the wings of past
For the fun and laughter
Figment and fascination
Devoid of effluents
Those lost in oblivion
Between then and now
Without even the awareness
That I'm losing them
And a craving to catch upon
The tip of the thread
That still may be holding
Those beads of glee
And recapture
Their prolific appeal.

by Pankajam Kottarath

Other poems of KOTTARATH (41)

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