Tracing pictures on old dreams,
Kept closed in dark iron bunkers,
Dancing feverish to a music in head,
Reliving ephemeral moments in love.
Scouring the end of worlds,
For something dear, familiar.
Celebrating a lonely pursuit,
For unheard graffiti of songs.
Like tied herbs in a potion,
Seeping with flavor fragrant,
But never seen when served,
You linger in me, unseen ether.
(c)Shashikala Sasidharan jan 9,2016