This is an abandoned town, ever since.
The statues are silent, and sun is cut up
in pieces and music is lost, and evenings
come and go, ever since you put down that phone.
People call and ask, what do I think
of this thing, and that…stuffy rooms and tepid
tea and vacuous smiles. I imagine you in the kitchen,
the sound of spoon against tumbler cutting
deep scars in the silence. This is morning,
and my wrists carry evidence of every time
you left. Outside the window, oppressive heat accretes.
Tomorrow, it will rain.
The images , like falshes from a story teller .. a scene is set .. come and add your thoughts sort ..
ReplyDeletereally love reading your poems :)
Sharp writing.Strong emotions transpired accurately.
ReplyDeleteAccurate.. Loved reading it.
ReplyDeleteno it will not, no one ordered the rain
ReplyDelete@Nimue, Ranjana, @iBeingMe Thank you.
ReplyDelete@Anonymous Funnily enough, it did rain. I guess that is one predictable thing about Bombay. :-)
:)
Delete