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  • hashtagkalakar
    • May 13
    • 1 min read

Poem

Updated: May 18

By Dhruv Mehta


Time hasn't been same lately,

with the feathers it got, and perched it remains,

like when bird sing a song.

Lost is the essence of time in melodies,

I too write in the aura of sorrow

as your rhythm is passive,



that i can't even kick it in snare and drums,

But the time being,

Let only that little be left of me whereby i may name you my all,

Like that little seed with a message inbuilt where they name fruit it's all, I long for the same.


By Dhruv Mehta



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