BY Omair Bhat

Hear my dolorous accounts of years tonight
won’t you ?

I am the second son of night
The pure black baby
Your Valuable
Dark times visible offspring
Fragment of a smoky dusk

Hear to my accounts tonight
Won’t you?

Ah! Dear Memory
I am absolute mimesis of night
The creepy cousin of Dark
as white shy eyes of fortnight moon
Bleak as hisses of sly wind
running through the dry veins
of shriveled dusky autumn leaf

Dear Memory
My body is a pure brown earthly formation
Auburn senses
Consonance of blue-rain fall
through the hazel-skies of
your eyes

I have grown in you
carnal web of an afternoon spider
running amonk on the red ivy-clad walls
surrounding turrets of glass

I am careless muse of a mad lover
Keep me with you
Until I shall unloose your dark reflection from mirrors of future

Dear memory
won’t you?