Spilt Milk
The sun peeps over the horizon
reluctant to awaken the world
this winter morning.
My sun has already set,
and drowned, deep into the oceans.
The cool breeze ruffles my hair
and sends shivers down my spine,
rekindling past memories;
when similar winds
had dug up long buried questions.
The dust has long settled on the floor.
I'm aware, and yet I don't dare sweep it.
For, the cords have frayed,
and the beams are rusty
and will not bear, if the dust rises again.
Sparrows chirp around my bare house,
exploring quiet rooms and eerie hallways.
Dawn to dusk, this arboreal cacophony
echoed by the barrenness,
is my only company.
The orange red evening sun makes his entry
spreading golden light
across the cobwebs of my house,
and that of my heart,
and slides down, laughing at the irony.
27XI00
posted by Viky @ 7:55 PM
2 Comments:
Good heavens... this one is very good! What's with you? I assume you are in a software company... go resign NOW! :D
One more think.... in Que Sera Sera, you could put "I also write at" above your blogroll. So that people see it at first shot and follow the link here.
Or else, you should give more publicity to this blog.
Will give you more gyaan later ;)
Resign and do what for the stomach, Shru?? :D
Waiting for more gyaan, apart from the one more think.
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