Fade – Ron Mathew, Kerala

Old eye rested on me

and sputtered in mighty spit, he,

of days past,

that, akin his skin, scarcely did last.

I was…once”, he croaked,

“like coal in a fire stoked,

like the black bull, poked,

and now in city din, choked!”

Puffing on his beedi wrench,

coughed out a filthy stench.

Scratched his head of strands uncouth

and smiled his mouth of a tooth.

“Today, hurried feet in flight,

no smiles, just grim might.

Not much, we had, then, for the night.

But lives were, ones full of light.”