Under the humble moon

And then I sat
under the humble moon—
whilst wondering my life; I loom
the silence from vehement thoughts
into poems—I knit the rarest of words
into verses; as I race my time backwards
onto laces—thoughts of school chases,
typically forgotten memories raises
anxiety; recrudesce— the forgotten faces,
within the souvenir lane lay the traces;
of how my lane led onto lanes, and
ways that routed trains and busses—
for the waggish child, who
ties his own laces; the passionate stud,
who changes from one lass to another on annual basis
—the heartbreaker; and then the bold austere father and
a family-man; earning bread as a dutiful workman, loyal to his foreman;
and then the granddad dropping at the school gate; punctilious— obnoxious
—and now the bald oldie abandoned by his own herd; writing ink on paper,
breaking raw words into making meaningful phrases;
plucked one from the stack of papers for one such oeuvre
—and then is when I sat
under the humble moon; wondering—
where it all went wrong!


Known stranger❤

ASk.fm – Krishnaprasad03
Wattpad – knownstranger03
Facebook – Sideeshwaran krishna prasad

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