‘How do I break it?’ Asked the little boy
Looking innocently into those old wrinkled eyes,
Carrying around a little grievance, a little joy,
Some little truths and some little lies,
The elderly went happy and fairly amazed
Caressing him with his soft, weak hands,
Out of the window, thoughtfully, he gazed,
A bird flocking some aberrant strands.
Fled she away into that nasty lift
Leaving her spuds behind, she was scared,
Skipping breaths to be alive from the drift
Of red that the wisest kind layered.
Even with the air giving out clear sepulchral
About the storm that did silently await,
Returned she everyday to the vanity central,
The land which had learnt to write its own fate.
Kissed she back before the spawn of dusk,
Before the day she wanted them to learn
The oscillating hue of the waving musk
When she`d fly away never to return.
‘Wish I could unleash everything from the lot
Bound within the knots of these grey hair,’
Held he back within himself, the thought
‘Before the time they stop growing greyer’
Some are yet to be borrowed, some yet to lend
It`s time, when he unwinds the frozen knots
For it`s best to start before the end
‘Blend with words the moment`s thought…’
