I struggle to write,
what do I inscribe
so much to express
but I lost the alphabets
my letters are scattered everywhere,
just like the tears– on
the bed, the closet, the candelabrum
the flowers, the teapot, the doormat
washed in the kitchen
dangling in the balcony,
Everywhere.
salty scents cloud the house
languid soul sauntering
in the once known place called Home,
******
I sit with the quill and the inkpot
the storm of words that brewed
in the heart, now
choke my throat
I can hardly ink my thoughts
tears roll down, effortlessly
but words, don’t–
the children in the distance
are playing hide and seek
somewhere I’m also playing
like them,
peek-a-boo!
****
footsteps on the stairs, I rush
it’s the maid,
her bucket clanking on the handrails
the house is a mess
what will she clean?
it’s all dusty, soggy, filthy
Even I’m a mess,
but a beautiful transformed mess,
thoughtful I recline on the cane swing
I got it from Greece, long back;
the sun is crawling along the horizon
and in that goodbye time
it’s spicing up the blue in
passionate red-chilli dust;
****
words are still away from me
the empty pages sway in the breeze
the quill rolls and plops on the floor
the curtains enjoy the
flirty tickles, the wind chime
clinking that same old tune
it stings,
we both loved that symphony
but today I sit alone and enjoy
its bliss,
Dusk descends, stars arrive giggling
flocks return to their abode
fireflies ready to parade in the
distant woods,
grey drops blur my vision
but I wait,
though long
yet I wait
for a new dawn! 💚
Pic Courtesy: 123rf
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