One fine morning clogged all my dreams,
On seeing it, painful tears began to sprout.
All my calculations ran into creeks,
When flooded tears, choked my house.
All its pillars built on my sweat dues.
Have I not taken care of it so vehemently?
Yet the flood placed its hands on top of my roof.
It gripped its arms slowly, steadily yet lovingly.
Uninvited guest kept me in buzzer.
Fiddling with my tears it finally walked over.
Clutters of things got damaged forever.
I had to throw them one after the other.
Life is the precious gift can I ever buy?
Perhaps the things lost I may or may not buy!
~Geetha Jayakumar
Mumbai, India
Indian Periodical
Indian Periodical
Great piece
Very thoughtful Geetha
Good and beautiful
Wow..loved it…..gr8 thots.