Falling Crumbs

The things which did not brother you, like crossing the crowd unspoken. Long pauses between the questions, halting silences between frenzied wails. Flesh stayed untouched by hand, center of controversies. I still speak noiselessly, for urgent whispers, time for exit has come. The fog now deepens in eyes and then a cloud bursts. Trickling, when you bend backward to wet the floor of grass, which stiches the earth. Winds will not expose the naked skeleton consciousness now hiccupps crumbs fall from the table. It was not me It was not me. SATISH VERMA