The Theatre
A mosaic of
thousand yellowish
shades,
carpetted the
sky of the
theatre,
renovated-
the monotonous
smell of cool, foaming
air
(made and sealed),
black chairs,
wrought;
flashing popcorn
glimmers,
backs etched
by
capacious hearts-
thinking others'
minds,
proclaiming
their
verdicts.
The screen,
now void,
like white wrapping
the dead,
brooding like
lukewarm milk,
would spit
brimming
colours,
shun the
mosaic sky.
Some crazy
dance of a
drunkard
talking
colours.
Copyright © Kalyani Bindu | Year Posted 2011
|