by Abhilasha Dhankhar
A wandering higgler with slaughtered eyes
Told me the story of his wife's demise.
Remembrance of her made his eyes go wet.
Even after years he remembers how she slept.
Her panting sound still fears me,
Forcing me to be in heaven and hear her.
Hearing him made me realise.
Still people don't forget others demise.
We don't lose people through demise.
It is when we lose,
when the tenderness and sentiments are gone.
The person is gone.
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