Nick, Buddy

Our laughter rolls the the old canvas, 
and it unfurl again and flattens 
our seventies and our eighties. 
The era is gone; those boulders 
between the house by the ocean
and the salt water has a fresh coat
of moss green. Imagine , we have
painted an Altamira for 
someone or Something far 
from being born. We laugh again 
and our planet almost clashes 
with it’s fate.

Kushal Poddar
Words and potrait