Tuesday, 3 June 2014

Miscast







A peacock feather on the window sill -
not something that was light enough to float,
a crude wooden flute left on the table.
I scanned the room, there wasn’t any note.



But never mind, I still got your meaning
though you had got me miscast for the role;
you could have set whole worlds and cycles spinning
but still I’d not have stepped out at your call.








7 comments:

  1. Left me yearning for more even though there was a sense of nothing more needed to be said.

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  2. Aha Nila :) this was something! :)

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  3. hmmm well GOOD for her .. lovely poem

    Bikram

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  4. Thank you all, glad you enjoyed it.

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