Wednesday, May 14, 2014


You can't see any of it today
those buildings made of clear glass
children running through their summer
in banana plantations
or ancient men waiting in a queue
for the want of a greener monsoon

You search the ruins like an ant
yet find no morsel of love
to feed you

Grave looking vultures perched atop
churches keep their vigil
memories cannot escape without being
the gypsies are a lost race
Spring wind sighs through the skeleton
of a wrecked ship

[ In memory of late Gabriel Garcia Marquez ] 

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