July 2, 2014


<i>July 2, 2014</i><br><br><br>


THE MOSS

by Sangeeta Suneja

As the moss stays green,
Over the broken bridge,
Clinging, to the grey gravel,
In wait,
For the seasonal,
silver blue brook
to flow,
once again.
My wait, waits to glow,
green,
before,
I get smeared away
into a colourless smut and dust.
I rust,
Just
for you,
Chipping off, the brown time
Nailed in the walls
Of the broken bridge
Holding on to,
Your wrought iron mind,

Hope it rains, soon,
Hope the brook spills
Its gloom,
Hope the grey gravel grows greener,
I hope to sit down at the silver stream,
Our bare feet hanging, touching
the moss, that is all silk and green.

4 comments:

  1. Marshwiggle23July 4, 2014 at 10:41 AM

    Hope it rains, soon,
    Hope the brook spills
    Its gloom,
    Hope the grey gravel grows greener,
    I hope to sit down at the silver stream,
    Our bare feet hanging, touching
    the moss, that is all silk and green.

    love it, sangeeta :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sangeeta SunejaDecember 27, 2014 at 3:00 AM

    Thank you Dr Ampat Koshy! I am so glad that you liked it.

    ReplyDelete
  3. AnonymousDecember 27, 2014 at 6:23 AM

    loved this ::))) @ Mary annie A.v.

    ReplyDelete
  4. UnknownDecember 27, 2014 at 6:42 AM

    Thank you so much Mary Annie. Honoured, I am.

    ReplyDelete

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