On Your B'day—me... Poem by Anuraag Sharma

Now
the heat here
melts the memory cubes congealed then and there....
Once a butterfly flew around the tiny spots of greenery at the outdoors and then suddenly flew away clapping
its wings studded with ginnies coiled in silver and got caught up in fetters of foreign
redolence, haply for ever.
Once
a fluffy moist patch—an open umbrella let not the scorch
burn the homely warmth and then suddenly got vapourised and rained down at Whipple Park leaving the cracked land—dry and
dreary, deserts far and wide here, here only....
Such such
such are the alien winds in the other moiety.
When you cut a cake, you
cut through a was. The ‘Is'-eractus like candle or frozen falls of Niagara. A morrow celebrates a b'day sans the one so loving.
Live to love the one in absentia. Love to cross over a Lethe.
Nature cannot dare to make, nor gods have skill enough to create what
we two dream up—a solid rainbow across the two hemispheres that melts not, nor congeals.