When she walked the last walk of her life,
a woman with earthly eyes,
my late grand-father's wife -
A lonely stranger, she passed by.
living by the nature's decree.
Growing old like herself,
growing mould like the books in her shelf.
"Why don't you speak, Why don't you move, mister?"
He reminded her of prolonged paralysis - her soul sister.
Yet, with the gentle nod of his head,
he resumed his romantic muse.
He showed no signs of life,
except the single golden autumn leaf
which hung desperately on his messy branch.
She sat under the shadow of his tall, weak figure
And started to count numbers with an uncanny rigor.
As each decade passed on her twitching fingertips,
the lines and curves deepened around her dull lips.
The wind roared a departure warning,
Cometh was the hour of mourning.
The rest that followed
was in slow motion.
The vessel of life hollowed,
emptied of emotion.
The last golden leaf flew on her breath
and kissed the ground along with her.
She was freed of her dilapidating body,
No curves, No lines!
None!
Except one.
Beeping on the box near the hospital bed,
where she lay
Breathless.
Postlude
As a poet and author should, I feel highly obliged to present this poem to you. For all purposes, the reader must know that this poem was written for the intra-college competition 'Darpan' in Christ University, Bangalore. The poem alludes to the theme of AUTUMN which was one of the two themes given to us to write on; the other being FOG. The results of the competition is yet to be announced but my hopes and expectations of the piece is high. The reader will, upon close introspection, feel the soul of the season of autumn. It is of great personal connection to me. Trying not to give away my perspective in order to avoid biasness of thought, to fill the reader's emotional vessel with this shape shifting poem is the intention with which I write.
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