No More Can You Hold.

No more can you hold

this lingering casket of thoughts,

a blooming quill of prickly violet horns;

You had endured, my dear,

a soul adrift in midnight silver waves.

My dear, I wonder how you held your voice hushed.

Neither a lisp nor breath heard,

you in your chamber day and night,

gently enduring this slick and slime

of a journey so morbid.

You haven’t smelt roses for long,

neither had the jasmines sweetened your senses to regain;

may be the sun and the sea salt had covered you in endless cycles of agony,

and in your patient self took it to be the life!

Arun Prasad