The Withered Dream
Darkness, darkness everywhere
Like a warm blanket in winter
Like the shell of an oyster
Darkness, white and grey and blue and red
Darkness makes me wildly mad
The old banyan tree has become my friend it so often invites me to chat
I chat freely with it though no response because I am left alone nobody sane
And busy youthful person cares to sit with me spend with me a moment a single moment
I know I talk of the past so many times repeated they mock me though at my back the
Old haggard the useless old man again on his tricks who will have the time to listen to his
Foolish prattles
THE TIME…
The deafening silence everywhere
The old and fragile staff to hold
All the world shuns you there
The deafening silence makes me mad
Thinking of the old days opens up the fountain of tears though weeping openly will make me seem
Insane insane they call me though at my back even my grandchildren avoid me they are busy
In their own world do I remember my long dead wife? She constantly returns
In my dream I stretch my arms towards her she evades laughingly they call me brooding old man
I get angry ANGRY AND SHOUT AT THEM
I shouldn't have reacted thus… oh god
I… I… I go back
To my
Own banyan friend
My staff
One step, two step
oblivion
Copyright © Prasenjit Banerjee | Year Posted 2014
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