The cruelties of yesterday meet
the fate of all old things. Lose
their edge. Fade out.
From the southern window, a silver
moon peeps in. Still almost full.
Shy. Veiled just so behind a sheer
curtain. But there, a friend
who gets what loneliness is.
It's 5 am. Songbirds haven't yet
pitched their sonic petitions to
resist the rule of darkness. In
this distilled hour, the lunar
interposition is perfect. It's
the colleague who reaches out
after unkind colleagues bully and go.
Dismissal is an easy, lazy act.
Reaching out, peeping through a
sheer curtain, being there but not
bearing down -- such softness is
stellar work that wells the eye with
tears. Like moonlight bathing a
snow-covered taiga forest floor.
This is beautiful, Bhaswati :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Giti. :)
ReplyDelete