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WITHERING

Neelam Saxena Chandra

I gazed vacuously for long 
At the pale yellow stems of the rose shrub
That was but sand now…

Every passing moment,
A bit of its trace shall vanish,
Till its form is scrapped off completely…

I don’t suppose it died all of a sudden,
It hadn’t flowered at all that year,
And the season before that,
It had merely bloomed…
When I had seen it last frosty winter,
I suppose it had made up its mind
That it no longer wished to stay back...

Death never comes 
All of a sudden,
A bit of the self perishes 
Little by little
Before the ultimate demise!

saima afreen
rinzu rajan
vinita agrawal poetry
 
 
     
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