My unwritten story
An incomplete symphony
is urging to finish
before the clock starts ticking
before the rhythm loses track
As the life is changing quite fast.
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I must complete it
at the earliest
before I complete
the quota of Oxygen,
before life stops,
before something hops.
The warmth of those eyes
is missing
which were moist
with love and spark,
are now dry all the time.
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I don’t know if this is
my unwritten story.
I don’t know if it will survive
before my omission
before the intermission.
In fact,
words have become
scarce,
they don’t come now
so easily.
We meet,
and stay for long,
as before.
But you don’t talk
as before.
My Unwritten Story
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
