Scoundrel

As I hold them in my hand They go flat releasing Three months of winter into me. I feel blessed and walked down The path- strewn with cold leaves; And where upon them mild sun fell flat; I peep into sparkling round dews Hanging from the pointed leaves Sucking up the voice of the breeze Squeezed rainbow packed into them- twisted; I don’t like to tease their docility; Crumpled grasses stick to my boots As I walk towards a realm unknown; Short may be my stay here The mirror had lied to me About the freckles and furrows That grew luxurious in the pallor Of broken promises and lost hopes; Let me walk tortoise like Till the hour when the dawn would Tolerate me no more and vomit on me The tortures of a slave woman; Dig my grave and read the plea of An innocent soul written In the worm infested bones; Let me die in my death.