An epitaph

Don't wet your tears
for I'm still breathing
down your ears.
The lemonade
I drank for years
has turned
sourer and sourer
just like the
blood that turned
a clot
when it kissed
the foul air amidst the dust.
Do Cry over
the tomb with
no red roses
but with a heart
of taste and
a soul of memories.
I'm watching you
even when
I'm down here silent
with pale eyes
and a wish
to be that tear
which would
roll on your
cheeks like pearls.

Copyright © 22 Aug 2007, by Abhilash Hegde
All Rights Reserved