By- Abhidha Jha

Rubbed my knuckles,

Enfolded my face to hide,

By the cushion to give me soothe,

Or just a reason to feel fine.


Perplexed was I,

Beholding fears of mine,

Stood they by me,

Horrid and indefinite.


Could no more hold the awful sight,

I bawled just like an infant child.

Yet they laughed, convulsing my psyche,

Giving me a creaky and hideous eye.


Pushed my head against the wall,

Crying, craving for it to stop.

Eyes broke in, nothing was live,

It was me, alone in the chilling night.


But as my blubbering stopped,

As I wiped off my tears,

A blaze though repleted with throes,

Peeped into the mist to drink my fears.


My night has the light,

Yet it's sunk in the dusk.

Every night as the forlorn pries,

It finds me in itself,

An old friend in its bones.



This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon:

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