Roads
Limbs move, face smiles,
Interactions begin and end on time,
Thoughts race, million at a time,
Sunrises turn to sunsets;
Days into nights,
But the soul is untouched for ages,
The smell of your t-shirt forgotten.
Your misty eyes a distant dream,
The color of your specs frame fading away
Sitting 1000 miles apart, I ignore your phone call
I ignore your text, clocking my umpteenth presentation
A piece of you breaks, yet again today
Rat race I call it, you call it living like rats,
Living my dream I say, you say leaving dreams behind.
Thus, two roads diverge, two hearts break,
One soul dies, yet another machine is made
Poetry emerges, slyly watching through a creak in the library door,
I rush and embrace as it reminds me of you.
I eagerly fill forms and interview like a machine I am,
Truth unrevealed, that the alchemy is within.
Iron turning gold is not a ’switch off’ button,
It is the smell of the flowers, the breath of fresh air
It is that hour long phone call, the butterflies in the stomach,
It is a long warm bath, it is an idle sleepy day.
Yet work I choose, with ‘switch on’ mode again,
The diverged roads I know, shall meet few miles away
Copyright © Aishwarya Chari | Year Posted 2017
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