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Gone - Riddhi Jain

Daisies tapped the coffin

Inside which lay the body,

Red and blue and black

With letters and polaroids

While breath soaked in the wood

What if she rose up again?

She would; just if she could.

Her hands were numb,

Her feet all distortedly placed,

Her body well cased

While the leaves embraced,

Bringing her back to the soil which nourished her

Bringing her back to the roots which sprang her

Bringing her back to the fruits which she plucked

Bringing her back to homely hugs

But she sat there, lackadaisical

Just sat,

Pondering and thundering and wondering upon

That big trousseau ripped wedding so fat.

Her heart was torn in two

One that would further live on earth

And the other taking her back to soul nourished hue

She had left indeed leaving her wishes,

Her happiness,

Her emerald studded beliefs,

Back on the bridge so broken.

Taking along with her another life's token

To the Greek Pluto who would welcome her

With open hands and hugs,

Providing another soul with the last materialistic rugs.


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