Sonal Singh On Sonal's Table
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Teetering on the brink of my rim fringed with curling lashes,
Dissonant they wait tentatively seeking permission to flow.
Perhaps the shadows of the past intrude, impinge on today?
Creeping up in weak moments they lay siege on my heart.
My sodden lids bear the brunt of the sorrowful emotions
That sear as if cleaved with a hot dagger dipped in venom.
A tremble in my lip as I grapple to hold my sorrow at bay
But alas! I blink and they fall, unhindered, a river of dolor.
Image – Google
