Unrecorded

Some infant verses, shut-lid and crying,
Are left un-recorded –

Like Kublai khan’s magic,
At the pinnacle of a dream,
The rhythm shattered by the waking,
And I die.

Phrases framed in the swirling crowds
Of a trashed walkway,
Vanished in the quiet peace of my room,
And I die.

And some in the quiet of setting sun
Carefully fretted and set free
Wantonly, to mingle with the cosmos,
Yet I die.

One such lost song came to me –
We were driving down that sun-lit road,
Slightly caked crisp,
In anticipation of summer…
I lost it in the cackle of day
I lost it in the cackle of day…

Grains of sand – scattered on the beach,
Irretrievable.

Mar 27th, 2010.