Disbanding

by Satish Verma   May 16, 2020


Pupil was on parole.
You abandon the inexhaustible
patience with increasing distance.
Everything was fading
when you look back.

The things, always return.
Like you did not carry a bundle
of postcards written
by your father, while emptying
the house.
His carved signature is still
printed in my brain.

Now my grand daughter saves
the e mails sent by me. The woes
of a pilgrim. A neutral passage
with no feel. Some day a glitch
will wipe out the treasure.

We have changed the costumes.
The inside has raw palisades.

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