A BLANK PAGE OF LIFE

By G BHARGAV

I woke up at the midnight

to the thunder of a nightmare.

Where am I in this darkness?

Who was that I held to kiss?

Moonlight night. Crumpled bed.

Alone. Breathless. Death.

The surface of sweat glistened

in the reflection of a pale face.

A pile of parchment paper

caught my eye, lying in the corner.

As I untied the strap,

a pile of hope resurrected into a heap.

All the poems about you and me,

me with you, us together.

Oh, did you just made me a writer!

Then came the blank page

hitting me right on the face.

Knees felt weak and down.

Now I knew through what I’ve been.

A precious promise you tore apart.

An abrupt end to the plan,

you left for me before you’re gone.

I would be dead too

if it weren’t for the blank page.

yearning for the touch of a nib.

What I write is only the remnant

of a fire you inspire.

So I remain a writer. For

I am after all the writer you made.

By G BHARGAV