Today

Today,

This day,

Somewhat,

Five quarter hours ago,

Curtains called on a drama,

We act and enact just out of fun,

and the jest, of earning our place in companionship.

When, with the dust of a disgruntled old file,

falling down on the velvet curtains,

A stolen memory resurfaced,

totally out of regard,

for your aloofness,

or my act.

It will,

try its best,

and act so fallible,

An obvious misguided deed,

in letting even a dormant wind,

catch it by its smug little feathers,

And having it fly among the dust in the wind yet to settle,

Then, I ,for this once, have to be inhospitable,

For I can't take this anymore,

What with the breeze,

The lazy raindrops,

The memories,

And you.

-Palash

July 2012, Lumding.

(The lines were born out of a love for order and geometry. It is a concept that has always fascinated me, the insertion of rigid mathematical order into the quivering world of poetry.)

(Each stanza in the above has thirteeen lines, each increasing in length till the 7^th line, when they gradually start to fall.)