On days such as this
She sits
Throat parched
For want of a few drops of nicotine.
They gaze at her
Myriad questions in their eyes
Is she mad?
Or did the sun just bake her black?
On days such as this
She sits
Lost in her thoughts
Of fallen towers and run-down mosques.
They drift by like leaves,
Few pity her
Most are just curious
Is she mad?
Or did the sun just bake her black?
On days such as this
She waits
For the nothingness of nothing,
Perhaps she has seen
Kali’s dance on the flames.
They don’t see her any more
Even as they pass,
They know
She turned mad
When the sun baked her black.
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2 comments:
Has been such a long time since I read one of your poems. This one haunts, really.
@Anu...yes, I have begun writing again :)...thanks for reading and commenting...
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