Friday, November 25, 2011


tick-tocking silently, a hand marking the seconds
lazily, his eye chases it round and round
the other eye shut, as a resting dog
in his brain, not a thought could risk being found

the register lay open, pages unbothering to flutter
half empty chai glass having an identity crisis
his unpolished shoes lording over the desk
still air competing to be stiller as the sultry sun is.

Then the sand whirled into dust, the gate rattled
wheels scarred the path with a noisy engine throb
his legs swung over to the ground as torso raised itself
he saluted at attention and trembled a “Salaam Saab!”


CY|\|O$|_|RE said...

excellent and beautiful composition...:)

RampantCrumpet said...

Not too shabby. A bit on the stark side. Spend a bit more time on it and see because your prose is very readable

mythalez said...

@cynosure, thank you!

@rampantcrumpet, ahem!

RampantCrumpet said...

You are welcome mythalez.