Finding the formula for old age
We hit on the sky ageing in sea,
Its golden locks, turning silvery,
On hours of morning’s wisdom.
At times,a sea turns an old man
Beating tired feet on each other.
It’s formula is a shuffle like fish
Inside sea’s womb or in a throat
Like words disappear for asking
Like fish disappear in a stomach.
At times , sea is a park gardener
Sweeping leaves of a golden sun
And the dust blinds a sun’s light
Spilling from the foliage of park.
Old words disappear in formula.
The sea shuffles its feet in waves.
