The Grave Is Nameless


“Touched your heart”?
I wonder if!
Of trust and guise
For you;
No difference, ever
Have I noticed.
My silly being,
if for a moment,
Does trust you:
How late with time;
Have you been…
Garden of my heart
Of late you visited;
Only at the end of autumn.
For you,
There the soil once
Rejuvenated…
For you somehow
The seeds were sown;
It was because of your existence
What ugly been buried
Bloomed as beauty…
The spring, how badly
Awaited you;
There was hope
And the thought;
Of your arrival (soon).
Spring passed
Thus arrived summer…
Fragrant garden
Vibes did send!
Initially gaiety; there verily was,
The expectation
Anticipation indeed there was
Sole but of your Arrival.
The bitter part of the bloom
Steadily did approach;
The ‘Next.
Horrifying; The Autumn…
How badly I battled
To extend the summer,
Ultimate is but the truth:
The autumn came
In its dullest robe.
The bud of my heart
(Brightest that seemed);
Was Nibbed there;
The poor shadow
Autumn spit: pale it turned
And bitter it felt;
There on the ground…
Then came the winter
And the remnant buried.
Cold it was; everywhere…
Now
When everything has just
vanished;
Now you have come?
Just to see?
The grave;
Of my Bud?
The colours Alas! Long back have faded
and died a death
Silent and Cold.
The grave is nameless;
Hopeless you shall return…

~Mehak Dhaar


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