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Counting Heads at my Funeral
A flower rusted out of time - I sleep
Counting heads gathered at my eve.
What needed always - a truth
I am mating,
For I was born and waiting.
The shore shows up brightening everything
–White as if mother’s milk
And I am a little child of that nature
–Fed to the time’s kill.
Memories, as I hear you say goodbyes
to me, keep coming and I see.
I see all that has gone by, all that we miss
–You and me.
I see the hearts unopened,
Love unbuckled,
And mouth never settled.
© Gautam Kumar
Counting heads gathered at my eve.
What needed always - a truth
I am mating,
For I was born and waiting.
The shore shows up brightening everything
–White as if mother’s milk
And I am a little child of that nature
–Fed to the time’s kill.
Memories, as I hear you say goodbyes
to me, keep coming and I see.
I see all that has gone by, all that we miss
–You and me.
I see the hearts unopened,
Love unbuckled,
And mouth never settled.
© Gautam Kumar
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