DB ( / )

Pensive Lover

Even now he loves to take out that last letter-
smudged by the saddest fag-end oozings
from the bosom of a late penitent Monsoon-
lying crumpled in his age-old jeans pocket,
for secret reads and re-reads at the lonely bank
where long ago like a small chunk of tear-wet sand
his heart had crumbled into a river, stark blank;
every night he fondly struggles hard
with those half-legible, lightly visible letters
at the study table, on roof-top or under moon light
to glean more knowledge about mysterious human heart
so as to persuade his tears, his eyes no more to smart;
and when his heart grows darker
than the semi-lit bank,
night birds skim the river at the bend in half dark
he listens to her last words of remorse
echoing in the flutter of gliding wings,
paints her image in the sky with clouds
feels her musky breath in the returning breeze
till slumber, his lone spirit doth siege.

by Saroj K Padhi

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.