Next to Nest

The conflict of love's sad satiety and its eternally unquenchable disposition

At the end
The lights would fade
The music would die
The curtain would fall
And he would wait
For the next show

On the final day
The sellers would part
The stalls would disemble
The fair would end
And he would wait
For the next fair

At the end
The mystic eyes
Would loose their charm
The tinkling voice
Would loose its music
The crumpled letters
Would burn ablaze
And he would await
For the next smile

Untill he found
The sun would always
Warm the same grey town
The leaves would return
To the same barren bough
The stars would sequin
The same night sky

At the end
The wrinkled eyes
Failed to invite
The feeble voice
Quivered to utter
The letters trembeld
On the letter
And he still waited
For the same smile

Reviews

[M P Ramesh]

sanjukta,
everything is same except the inside which is hidden to everything and everybody except poetry.The role of poetry comes after the action as a retelling...its not hindsight but it is vision beyond normal language and diction of it is also so enigmatic................like LOVE

carry on dear ........

mp