By: Krishna Prabhakar
It’s just a summary;
like a gallery
Filled not with
Paintings or statues but
With waiting and long queues
Queues to the heart
Waiting in the mind;
Your blacks and reds blend
to form the loneliest brown
Just like crusty leaves of autumn;
The night sky questions
Why the grey formed by combining two
Opposites feels like four crosses…
My soul wanders
It wonders how home feels
less like home and more like you;
Eyes see how rainbows
Are less vibrant than the clothes you wear;
Ears hear how catty
Can turn into flattery;
Hands not typing to stop you
but just to tell
That…
It’s just a summary…
