Wednesday, February 10, 2010

They left it behind


A half scribbled diary

Life strings: confused and wiry


An Orkut account

An entire life to mount


An old photograph

Into real people you wish it would morph


A blood Soiled shirt

A full cycle of death and birth


An uncontested remote

Myriad tragedies to emote


A mute phone

Blood chilled to the bones


A flick of hand

A wrong turn

A crash of glass

And silence forever


With halted conversation and speechless goodbyes, they left. May God Bless them.