Memories grey but still whispered.
Will not visit again that on soft feet
Will not show its cold bald steely grit.
Let it not come, not it wanted
Let it not come, all here dead.
Laterite lying silent, clay fertile
Will it ever get greenly smiley?
Questions thrown from all sides
None wants it into own milky cups
Cups in white, marble gold rimmed
Backyard gossip snoops toxic languid.
There, feet never again will reach
Blood-red sores on toes, no to itch.
Steps seen and stung for bleeding
Backyard, dark love quiet inching.
Will pervade yard back to the front
Will intertwine among left and right
Will it descend into the color unseen
Will feet forget the shore not sworn.
Neither promised nor assured ever
No hurry, sing the song you sailor
Known the song, known the tune
Footsteps on sand silent to moan.
The yards, the roads and the arches
Stopped to dance, old tunes and lyrics
Confused and compromised seen sky
Empty yards yawning nonchalant shy !
..............................
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