Member Poem

NEAR PAST

Dust on the table was telling,
A storm of yore
In the glen of breaths,
With duster I took to clean
When wrinkles on bedsheet,
give illusion of a shadow,
Two cups lying to wash
At a time were hot with sips
Of ardent lips
Left only a few prints,
On bathroom floor, soaps
Cases and mugs
to keep them back to a place
They belong
It was little ago, I felt enough
Contented??
If there is anything like enough
Only in myths
Body and the soul questing
Every now and than
For echo of the past
Again, again, again

©Hardeep Sabharwal