“When I go, you’ll remember these things.”
She’s laughing now, at me,
As I did, in response to her fuss,
But that line is lingering now
While she potters about, in her way.
I watch, knowing I will remember these things
When I try to pull her presence
Out of the colours around me.
No one can build me up
Because she’s done that, always.
But I’ll be like the hulked up tower
Looming into the dour night
Crumbling and caving to the rot
When she’s no long there
To hold up the walls.
By Ali. A. Naqvi