In my radio days, remorse for the
played out song stretched till the
next request by somebody
unknown to pain.
Delilah came my way
on a late night radio request
by someone too young
to hold happiness along with a grip on sorrow.
After all these years
the track on the shelf covered with dust
still waits to be played
with high pitch of Delilah.
They tell me she took off
in a mad rush to get tied to a stranger
who had stupid Sohni in mind,
the one who drowned crossing the river.
They don’t do
Listener’s choice anymore
iPod has come out to betray Delilah
like no other folklore.