It’s early
in the morning; gentle is the summer’s breeze,
The talks
are rife of the night in these corners of the sultry streets,
Raspy of
what the jarred windows and their sights have seen…
Missing
notably today’s the customary decadence of greetings,
No longer muffled,
devoid of any care, gone seems brusque in their banter.
The cruising
winds carry the gongs of an early hour near its beginning,
And the
light’s advent brings the sentiments on the green.
“It’s
different today, unlike any morning I’ve ever seen.”
The trees
are wary & a blanket of flowers that have seen their sheen..
Fresh are
the memories, of the world, of the lived and of my tale,
The blades
are blunt, when today the eulogies are being sung.
I know this
is ruse, my elicit for their response…
But if they’d
know of my wait, they’d be celebrating instead!
Carousing of
pain which was mine, marooned where thoughts & was its life,
…did they see me reaching for tides, arms leveled and thoughts sly?
In their
requiem, on how bereft went my days..no more, not after today!!
Unfazed, I
join. Silly, in their jargons, they forget, “This silence is mine!”
