I had in mind a children’s poem but the Delhi blasts have shaken.


I play hopscotch,


Most of the time

I balance it out.


I just about miss the limb gravy,

The cochlea awash

With the sound of the void

Of ideology and money of course.


Sometimes though

I run in to take my coat

And fall into my shadow,


How soon the glide,

How fast the disappearance!


The coat had died before me.


© neelthemuse,2011

Posted in: Day to day

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