Scraping of Shovels
If it weren't for you
I'd still be scraping the shovels
On land hinged by drought
Digging for achromatic memories
Beneath phlegmatic coarse woody debris
At trackless fields of feelings
In tenacious grip of my fingers
I would be scraping gravels from dessicated plains
Each path winding to you through echor
Would have lost existence
Left untrodden for eons
In limerance of your enigmatic charm
Bolstering labyrinth of emotions
Would have looked down upon
Lacerations on my vulnerable heart
To unearth dormant seed of your presence
To lighten pebbles and dried mud
And moisten it with my tearful soul
09/03/2019
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