Cocoon

There are no stories,

Here each night is mundane and lonely

The featherless night-birds spread their wings.

The moment I’m looking for is buried,

Beneath the dark staircase,

Each wound I polish on the secret stone shines

In false lights; it’s nostalgic too,

And strangely when a lizard cry

The moon goes behind the clouds,

There is a warm darkness throughout the house.

Every musical note now holds its own in silence,

The broken wall scribbles the forgotten words.

Corridors are filling up with selected alphabets,

A new world waits on the rooftop’s ledge.

@gopallahiri

………………………………………………………………………………