On The Passing of Paddy


                                                  (Remember Paddy Moloney?)

                                                   The rain has ceased to be news now,
                                                   and still the stirring in the paddy field
                                                   plays some wintercearig music.

                                                   I stoop, pluck and split open the heart
                                                   of a single grain. It holds ellipsism
                                                   Of  a the tiniest amount of some Moscow Mule.

                                                   The lashing leaves play the tune you can
                                                   change according to your life and choices.
                                                   I want to be sad, but the sadness die,
                                                   and the music lives on.




Kushal Poddar
Ilustration Nick Victor




Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India

 Author Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/ 
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe


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