Callous Eyes
Callous
Every tiny things matter in a young world,
and then with callous eyes, he is used to pick
days and nights as they pass him, as they pass beyond.
Sometimes he panics, fears that she’ll go away
and he won’t feel any ache, just be watching her
moving away, erasing; looking at the place
where she has been seen last; with covert anger.
A tiny butterfly flies, in and out, in and…
the patch of rain raises smells, smells of musty dusk.
The callous eyes follow the hands clutching heart
where past is blending in pains and agonies.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
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