Friday, 10 June 2011


Simply put, I don’t do drift well.
Innocent enough to say,
Like adjusting your lapel
Before they call reveilles .
It’s the cloying, the waxiness
That makes me burrow in
Mindworming narrowness
Of this semblance of stasis

Maybe I consigned it so
Let the moorings fray
Better not to know
What I could have been
If I had been more than,
And to find you have to lose
So let the moments slide on
And hold nothing, just drift.

By Ali.A.Naqvi

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