Silvery Thoughts

                               

I entered into the attic,
The silver almirah stood, covered by dust
All its silvery brightness swathed in soot;
The old silver jewels of Mom lay tarnished in the drawer, 
The grey ashtray looked pale with a smoky odour
With cigarettes used by Dad hitherto,
Stifled by the silvery smut all over,
I went out to glance at the sea
Scintillating under the silvery rays of the scorching  sun,
Snails lying ashore, gleaming with a silvery beam of hope,
Depicting "silver is no less than gold"
Only to engender one's bright silvery inklings revolving around the world!

                                                      
  


Discover more from ZorbaBooks

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Comments are closed.

Diotima Bose