Ankur Shrivastava

(19th March 1989 / India)

A Quiet Smoke


As I sit there
Smoking away my good old days,
Memories both sweet and bitter.

Cremating my own heart,
I see it turning to ashes.
A dimming light
What used to be a vivid spark.

Oh! my imprisoned soul,
Away she goes...free
As smoke-rings
Oh! let me fly
These are my fairy wings.

Submitted: Saturday, March 24, 2007
Edited: Sunday, February 06, 2011
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