Autumn Visitor …

On the last autumn evening
some untimely drizzle whispered
something for a leaf, courageously
holding on the branch of puzzle;
came to reside on the wet stained
glass of a window broken earlier …
Empty library filled with books,
books read, unread, half read,
with cautiously picked bookmarks,
their creased pages, folded edges;
some books were too injured,
their beginning and the end were
merged and unrecognisable,
somewhere trapped in abrasion
in face down position; in every possible,
pathetic state that a cold-hearted and
a careless reader could keep them …
I strongly felt for them and decided
to organise them; they were fortunate
enough; were about to walk on red carpet …
Some random detached leaves
from touched, untouched books and
their viscous drapes while placing them
fell from the shelf …
I gathered those scattered words and
phrases to immortalise as a collection
of Selected Poems …
A deep dive in yore prepared notes on
every fallen poem, writer’s introduction
and literary work’s occurrence events …
Each piece in that prewritten manuscript
appeared like remarkable work of thesis …
While reading them afresh,
dark verses brightened something,
harsh verses softened something,
tragic narratives begged for serendipity;
they needed to revitalise for living; so
I named the collection,
“The First Dawn of Spring” …
Though it belonged to the dry collection
of autumn, I managed to bring the play alive
in the Act II. Scene II. from the renowned
romantic stage and lived the timeless
phrase when Romeo called Juliet with
fond names in a timely saved romantic age …

This article was posted on Sunday, July 22nd, 2018 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.