Friday, 4 February 2011


Myopic eyes stared hard
Into a pair of shriveled palms
Ochre designs of an unknown pen
Blackened now with grieving stains
Of t he rubbed the grubby grease
With a bony thumb lacking ease
Hours ticked by in warring muse
With God perhaps a wordless ruse
And then he shifted his vacant gaze
To the limitless yonder, his face
Crowding with bewildered haze
Shrugged his shoulders brittle and bent
Clutched the air with creased hands
Failing which shook his head
I stood watching him instead
Oscillating between dread and hope
Perhaps it’s better not to probe
But bumping into my questioning gape
The ancient cheeks did suddenly break
Into toothless mirth as the words fated
Echoed wild in a deep brood
“Dunno what went wrong and where
Gal., the lines looked so damn smooth!”

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