Wednesday, June 5, 2013


There is always an untold story in a death,
One that trembles within to be told-
To a loved one who stood with on rain and shine.

There is always an  un uttered word on a frozen lip ,
A word that would mean all meanings of a lifetime-
It floats around the room and yonder on the curtains-
Hoping relentlessly  to be  heard by someone -
Someone who had uttered little words of love when alive.

There is always an unheard beat in the still heart,
A small beautiful beat that falls 
Only on the ears of an one who hears the beats of love.

There is always a small loosening of the skin on a rigid body ,
Expectations on the closed pores -
For one long kiss on the forehead ,
The warmth of which could be carried to the unseen lands.

A warmth ,an odor, a word and an unheard story,
Revolve round and round that house of death-
Till the knowing loving heart picks it up-
Absorbs every little nuance like a blotting  paper on a wet floor
And walks away with that baggage of love for the rest of life.

No comments:

Post a Comment