The book was there
Preserved on the rack of time
silent heartbeats of lines
Holding onto the secret theme
Some are spoken some not
Words grew bit by bit
to flower the tree of love there in
Spring and autumn canned
their blushes and scent
Guarding the essence
from months of relentless sun
One fine day
solitude walked to me
To unfurl the hidden treasure
the book read aloud to unmoved hills
Standing strong on my regular path
Huge task of joining the dots
The incomplete lines’ despondency
The blurred message’s helplessness
The familiar dust of blind trust
Tired my eyes
I cried to the sky
Half filled glass gets full with tears
Rain got jealous
Night got hurt
Words apprehended a cloud burst
The underlined phrases in every page
Defends me from abrasive dirt
Saves the party
from catastrophe,
With age-powered glasses
I see the heaven’s door
Love crosses deep ocean
To get drenched on my shore
Desiccated on bed of hot sand
My salvation is not distant
The book remains intact
In unending game of love
pages emit distinctive flavours
event goes on
I dissect the passages
and highlight the footnote
Love is nothing but
A revealed bold secret
————————————-
© ® Rashmi Mohapatra
Rashmi's Poetry Journal 