The melting watch

Swaying silhouettes of trees
And, ah, the lovely breeze
I stand of tiptoe, and lo!
The old woman in the moon beckons
Winks and blinks, her gray hair drenched in a silver sheen.
Arms outstretched, I try to hug her
And to take the blue immensity into my fold.
Is that bold
Of me?
But suddenly I feel cold.
The naughty breeze plucks a few hoots
And audaciously thrusts them down my throat.
A patch of blue settles in the crook of my arm
And drives away my blues.
Ah, there is a sudden calm.

The watch continues melting.
Days melt, minutes melt, seconds too
Into nothingness
Like the old woman in the moon
Who had melted long back.

Perpetually bonded to those memories
I labor on.
A bonded laborer unique
Unsuccessfully hiding that grey streak
Foggy eyes watching
The sun whose identity is diffused.
It morphs into a paint brush splashing
Fiery autumn hues.

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Santosh

An educationist with a passion for writing , having published some novels for young adults, some essays and some poems. My poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi will soon be published .

3 thoughts on “The melting watch

  1. louiskasatkin

    Crafted with ineffable poetic acumen,this is a finely woven allegorical tale of those vicissitudes that we all have to deal with.

    Reply

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