Lavender-eyed Bougainvillea creeper
looks at me from the
weather-beaten window pane,
A timepiece tick-tocks
tiredly trailing on time’s track
White-washed walls exhibit
the grubby graffiti and dusty doodles
of the pathetic past.
A lame light winks at me
from above my ruffled bed.
Salty smell of sweat sails with sooty
breeze of the blackened revolving fan.
Lying idly in the bare bookshelf
a broken ball-pen mocks at me.
A pale photograph smiles at me.
from the limping table
midst stale stubs of scalded desires
and scattered ashes of aches
overflowing from the ash-tray of life.
Watching the rusted reflections
from the ‘lost paradise’ of
my devastated dreams,
I drowsily drift into a
maze of memoirs -
where cobwebs of crawling years
dangle on the wispy walls
of blurred recollections and
cacophony of life dances
to the melancholic melody
of death’s symphony,
while I embrace my