Interactive

So, sometimes turn to the music

Maybe, it will help the chill

In dousing, in saving, in dealing

So, sometimes turn to editing

Setting those old films to score

As if you could recast it all

So, sometimes turn to writing

Listing, cutting and pasting

But words you spilt ran long ago

So, sometimes you just look

Gazing into corners for ghosts

But you haunt only yourself

So, sometimes you flick through albums

And each turn sets you away

From the familiarity of your present

So, sometimes it matters little

For you, the in-completion,

Stuttering and starting onwards.

By

Ali.A.Naqvi