Feedback About Us Archives Interviews Book Reviews Short Stories Poems Articles Home

ISSN: 0974-892X

VOL. VI
ISSUE II

July, 2012

 

 

Nidhi Mehta

Deathbed

In just one moment, a bed turned into a deathbed
The writhing life gone forever
Leaving silence and wails behind
A platform to catch the next train.

Warmed with the hot cups of morning tea
Fondling, cuddling and kissing coupled with caressing
Playground of love-games
Deserted now, no players anymore

Genuine passion, seldom flirtation
Memories of a perfect romance
Agony of loss, reverie to fret upon.
Now wet with break-up tears

Sagged under the mass of worries
Awoke till three in the morning
Always sleepless over clandestine disgrace
Concealed deep within, but not any longer

Fortress of the convalescent
Comfort after hours of toil
Sound unruffled absorbed sleep
Complete solace for a while, needless now

Co-reader of books
Rest for afternoon naps
Witness of the wishful thinking
Mostly fulfilled in dreams, the dreamer's now dead

In a moment, relegated
From a symbol of vitality
To the last relic
The Bed turned into a deathbed