71. My Broken Chair

As a trust unbroken

A love made to last

My chair, a token

An attachment to past

Wonder of Man

Unable to renew

Try as much he can

A longing real, true

A mind unable to let go

Things once he lived with

Old, worn out though

Beaten gold of a goldsmith

Tethered by a rope

Lies my chair by a corner

I don’t seem to cope

Without it, my heart barer

A world, full of choice

Brand new colors

I croak in the same voice

Reality, to my eye blurs

I do not know

My own emotion

A nature not to let go

Lying by my chair’s portion

A time I think would come

To turn my eyes away

A new sound in my eardrum

To leave my broken chair one day

© Venkat


One Comment to “71. My Broken Chair”

  1. all of us hold onto the strings to the past – memories or objects! very moving indeed!

Your thoughts...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: