Saturday, 21 January 2012


“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

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