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.