Renu Desai’s Dolor A Figure Of Speech
Went digging in the graveyard of my memories.
Had buried my metaphors with his words, some letters too and a pen with his name inscribed.
Spring, forced the cherry trees to blossom.
The ice melted, leaving the grave bare
Scavengers of destiny dug open the buried moments and metaphors.
Found the remains of the pen, rusted parts, name faded.
Pieces of my heart, in the torn letters.
Jagged edges of buried reminiscences
And the metaphors had ironically become literal tragedies.