By Priyanka Bhandarkar
The same tactics
One finger on the mouth but visible
Asking you to keep silent.
You entered the dwelling place of doctors
Nevertheless present during the passage of spring
I mean open during all seasons.
Swearing all to themselves.
Rumor of a smile with a past tense.
Those crystal conversations we make.
remove the glass ceiling,
Like justice learned from a molecule
Left ajar is the tongue out
Tugging at the rope until you lose.
And now the gaze shifts
Counting articles on the table
Water no longer quenched the throat but eyes
Voices unrecognizable in the chamber
Reflects the hunger for words.
Jump jump on those walls
True painted walls.
Green and brown.
Like doing justice to sickness.
The frankness of the frogs
Noticed is the calmness in each and everybody's eyes
Why pick up only phone calls?
And no thing is understood
Except the wind rotating distinctly in the room
and loosely piled those sheets of paper into files
A sparkling hand on them.
You entered the dwelling of those frogs
Gave an enticing answer at the reception
Maybe wondering if they will let you in early.
Crucified the well rewarded society
The color of ash does not change
A little lost,a little gain.
Besting your relationships
Eager to be called first.
But you are not lucid.
Tallying the rotating doors with a bet
The number of times you walked across the same door hoping
Through the waiting years
To jump the mile by paying extra fees.
Confined in the brilliant room
Faced with a broken star
Waking in the eyes,throat dry.
History that persuades
To receive an authentic autograph,
Of the doctor.
No walls can resist praise
The discussion over in a few minutes
The room carried my observations
The same decor and mementos
Of great expectations
Pack your bags.
The last person to guess the truth
You came out alive !
By Priyanka Bhandarkar
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