You forgot to give me
What was mine.
Again.
In the lull of the traffic,
The rain that didn't,
A happy ripple in cold concrete,
In the darkness of red and yellow lights,
You don't hear my voice-
Small, (they said)
Against the silent hum.
There's something it misses
That it rises and loses itself
In itself:
Soap bubbles in the air;
Maybe it misses (!)
So let's start all over again.
Ahem...
Hey!
No, wait... that's not it.
Shikha Gupta
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hey-18/
