“From latticed window of prison walls;
A streak of gleam pierces through
Descending upon the darkness of prisoner
To which he gazes beyond the improbable

He wanders of her
Wishing, she would bring carnations
A tuft of primroses and violets may be;
Imbuing his passive existence
With fragrance, ephemeral

In rhythm of the waxing and waning
Of a crescent moon in a cloudless sky,
He plunges in a thoughtless desire
Of reaching out to past memoirs

A faded nostalgia
Tattering; much to his frightening bequeathed legacy
Now, he spendthrifts the moments
In counting the distant irremediable contours

He stands on hedges of nuanced memories
That intertwine the space and time
Reminiscences of an open courtyard
And hollowness of sprawling rooms

He chases the dwindling light in dark
Recollections of exuberance he spent in past

What holds he now ;
Are rusted keys
An unopened can
And a box of cigars
And deflecting memories undefined”.

                                               ~Tejasvi Saxena

                                                 New Delhi, India