Was he black or white?
Were the intentions good or bad?
What was he after? Nothing precious seems to be taken...
The Alchemists potion, Midas' stone,
Pandora's box, the leftover wishbone...
All lie Untouched, Unearthed, Alone.
A dark brown hair strand on the window sill is the only rem(a)inder.
His presence, heavy as a Myth now.
But he wasn't the Piper as the mice still scuttle around.
Neither the Khan - he didnt take his silk gown.
All that is gone is a shock of my hair, which he took without a knife, just shining a Light in my face.
The Bus journeys to Mumbai have been frequent and somewhat unwanted as I see my dad changing bit by bit in looks due to the Radiation and Chemotherapy doses. Its sad to see him go bald. I wonder what he feels...
No comments:
Post a Comment