Time’s fallen through the deep ends.
The shreds of the earth’s immortal sheath,
Spins silently around the ring of fire,
The damp eyes forgot beneath.
Cold lungs take much longer to fill,
The traces of air that seep in.
Each morning we wipe the face of fear,
Sorrow sets in your skin.
The bridge to your home burns slowly without light,
The inside and outside seems black and white.
How can we forget those moments?
I remember, your eyes seeing the bubble blower,
Above the silver clouds, they would sparkle over.
The little kites would fly high in the gust of winds;
Now they just tumble past the table,
Scattered with other things,
And trying hard to align with the new normal.
Arun Bahadur Gurung