Thursday, November 25, 2010

Home

I observe her today
pretty different she appears

A worn-out face
with a speck of spring
stuck in one corner
of her left eye

Her smile dull
like dusted leaves of a Gulmohar
by the road

And her voice cold and metallic
as if she has imbibed the hardiness
from rusted scraps in junkyard

As she stares into my bewilderment
I envision a verdant morning
taking its birth in the hollow
around her eyelids

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