The inner walls have kept this
warmth out, and even though
the winter has been here for a while
and been hanging its world
on and from the trees, shrubs, weeds
when we emerge from the nave
the Sun seems at its prime. It covers
our eyes with its throbbing hands.
We feel the world of a blind.
It is okay. We are just playing. It says.
The code word for ending this is
my name, not the public one, but the one
so intimate I never utter. I freeze.
I cannot repeat the subject of my
just finished eulogy.
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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor
Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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Author Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe
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