Those dirt I had
kept gathered for long
It has his remains
and he had gone
His dirty T shirt
I cannot afford to wash
His dirty plates
he had last had dinner with me
and that dirty napkin
he used before leaving
and that dirty sand
from his shoes
which he left on my doormat
while he was leaving
and that dress I wore
when he hugged last time
is dirty now
but I just cannot wash
Those dirt I cannot loose
They help me to feel
his tightness and warmth
which I never allowed to get lost
Those dirt he left behind
is sacred for me
I have now a separate self
to keep them all
Those two hangers
one had his T shirt
and the other my dress
They sometimes hug
to make me feel less depress
Those sugar left behind
in his plates
I daily smell
and keep back in the self
when I wipe my face
with that dirty napkin
I feel they wipe my sins
and those sand from his shoes
they gave birth to new ‘us’
My flowers in that pot
never fail and bloom
after all his immortal dirt they consume
Ganpati was formed
by dirt from his mother parvati’s body
and I have my husband’s dirt
and It never lets me feel
that I am now alone and there is nobody
That accident changed my life,
all of a sudden he was gone
but his dirt I have kept sacred
and gathered for long
Purely imagination created this but I am aware of some similar stories,may be therefore I was able to imagine this . I know it came out to be so sad.. completely different from hopeful ones I write but feel good for that immortal love that she still cherish that lonely wife.
Happy reading
yours loving warrior
Naina
Beautifully expressed all the pages of life… With and without someone….
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Ty 💕
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Fantastic poem warrior,
You truly let your imagination fly and brought a gem. Kudos
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ty🤗
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