The Mime Called Time
The leaves fall and wither
Pages turn monotonously
The calendar falls off the wall
I am the witness, stranger
There are no random bursts
There is only consistent loss
The eyes become stones
I have felt it, stranger
The skin peels off slowly
Virility is a dying flame
The mind is a rusted nail
I mourn you, stranger
Grey is your house now
The paint is thus extinct
The creepers are free
I reside there, stranger
A calm fire is burning
Smoke hiding the tear
Devouring that armchair
I know of it, stranger
Memories without colour
And an indefinite abyss
Inevitable and unacceptable
Not your fault, stranger
Incessant hands of the clock
The wind pays no heed
Blowing away the dust
You understand, stranger
Light up your eyes
The wheels stop therefore
Sunlight in the room
You may smile, stranger
Every drop of time
Precious bead in a necklace
Silent message is conveyed
I am a mime, stranger
Copyright © Samantak Bhadra | Year Posted 2012
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