Triad
At the collapsing edge of the shrinking time
in the fading gleam of the terminal twilight hour,
down the misty memory lane masked by shadows,
I see me walk my adoring children
on their changing contours of childhood landscape,
hands held with patient paternal care,
with the nestling warmth of everlasting love,
as they grow wings in their time and fly away.
An ancient mariner, self-disposed,
I navigate across many rough seas in tempest,
looking for propitious winds of love and empathy,
on the frayed out sail, I strive to raise in hope
to cruise at nightfall to the shore called home.
In the obscure depth of the introvert psyche,
the shrouded sense of gratitude subsists,
instinctively silent, and undemonstrated.
Engulfed by the seamless emptiness of solitude
I open my window on the flushing meadow,
the sunburst dawn sparkles on pearls of dew.
My blank mind morphs into a Monet canvas,
on the strokes of beguiled brush paints of joy flow,
loneliness gets configured in spectrum of expression,
as the sensuous stimulus of the pristine nature
suffuses the dormant art of life in me, unexplored.
January 24, 2021
Contest : Your Best Free Verse So Far This Year
Sponsor : John Hamilton
Copyright © Subimal Sinha-Roy | Year Posted 2021
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