And I watched the last bus leave,
Thinking that's not mine.
Mine is yet to come..
But it's gone
Like the spring,
My life has gone
and I stood by and watched.
I never carried a note,
To write it down.
I never caught anything thrown at me..
This is not for me,
This is not for me
And in each miss
I missed a piece of myself...
The perfectionist's ignorance.
He lost his last note.
Last hope.
Why am I still on this bench, Lord.
To remember!
To understand that the
apple has fallen from the tree,
And I watched it roll down the valley
Not moving a muscle about it.
Is that it?
Is that it?
How am I to redeem?
For my river flows with no water
And for me no ocean.
How am I to redeem
a wasted life..
The lies of a holy cross awaits.
Like a crow's shadow.
A lie, indeed..
Anandhu Krishna is a poet, content writer and Uber driver living in Calicut. He has published a collection of poems in Malayalam. He also writes articles on contemporary affairs.
