The twinkles of the past


Geetha munnurcode

The memoirs redeemed
Not felt from where
The bubbled splutters
In a turmoil
In a turbulent prang of passion
Deep some where
In the core of heart
Floating
Just a touch apart
I could reach them
Yet
Getting trimmed off
Slipping
Out of my possession
Why do they dive down?
Weren’t they a part of me?
My own self
In its preamble
The pedestal from where
I nourished
Erected my stature…
May the day I’d be laid
For the last rituals
Of my existence
They come, embrace me
And release
Just a glimpse of me
A final glow.

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