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A melancholic poem about ageing – by Mohini, exclusively for Different Truths.
There used to be a person Behind that wrinkly skin A spark, in place of that baggy squint Curiously flipping the pages of past Words unsaid Dreams unfulfilled Songs unsung, dances not danced, Sweet lullabies echoing in lonely gallows Bright days turning to sooty clouds Marbles of memory turning yellow Reminiscing all the blues and bruises Falling apart in a second Then making a flame or two Only for it to burn out Waiting for it to burn out. I saw a coat on old bones today There used to be a person there.
Picture design by Anumita Roy
