Good Morning
I have never
Actually seen all this,
I just fantasize
In theme parks and pubs,
During an Alumni picnic,
Or while exiting bookshops.
Dreamland concoctions,
Warehoused in letters
After mundane names
Inherited from
A not so erudite father,
I would have the blood pumped in,
What goes out
Must, after all be replaced.
Lines and phrases
Twisted through history
This way or that,
Like autumn leaves
In a tornado of dust,
Isolated
On a sunny day.
Sounds tell me
That life has woken up,
Time for cotton wool
In kidney trays,
Time for squirrels
To gather nuts.
They will open
This sarcophagus
After me, beyond me,
Let the wisp escape the willow,
They will gather dust.
Copyright © Ashok Niyogi | Year Posted 2005
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