Sunday, August 20, 2006

The tomato

A stale tomato, near the water sink,
An unwashed knife, a broken glass,
A slow moving fan near the window,
And an infinite silence in my house.
It sure was a home once, long ago,
When the knife had a scary shine,
And well washed cutlery was lined
Along the kitchen shelves everyday.
People to rede you on many things -
Paper sachets and steel matchets,
To life, agonies and smiles et al.
Fervid tones and incessant notes,
Some from a guitar; Some yelled!
Frantic feuds over a paper boat -
They happened too around here,
When the tomato was still ripe red.

-Anubhav

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