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I silently gaze at him while he continues to paint
In water beds that lend color to the negatives
The clock in the hall ticks with carelessness
As memoirs in black and white are revealed

Heroes they fade like leaves in the rain
The legacy they leave in our heart deeper than its veins
And someday these hearts of ours shall stop too…
Through the graves and heaven, our praises shall continue(…M.J)

He reads a book, quotes me a passage cutting through fields of empathy
Patience preens its white feathers before it takes flight gracefully
Deliberately he writes me out the lines as I watch invisibly
Gratitude for lonesome prayers I echo back in poetry

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Posted July 1, 2009 by Deepti G Gujar in nouvelles poèmes

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