I am reading my old diary...
Its pages smell of dust and dried flowers:
covered with letters that move,
the words stretch out their wings and fly,
happy to swap places.

I am reading my old diary...
There is no sky:
wind and clouds make that
perfectly clear.
I am reading my old diary:
it is raining heavily outside.

I am reading my old diary…
I see the setting sun disappearing
inside the burning lip of ocean.
I am listening to waves lapping the shore.
I am reading my old diary:
it smells of dust and dried flowers.
I see a clear sky
boasting of Gemini and Sirius, East of North.

Copyright© 2004, 2005 Debashish Haar, All Rights Reserved