Guest Post: Kumar Harsh


Kumar Harsh:The Dusty Place


I saw a dream one day,
Twinkling lights,
Had come to me one day,
Dressed in a golden scarf,
They told me of places far,
Where the wind had blown,
Where there was no soul,
A little dusty,
A little rusty,
That frame that had pictures of various faces,
It took me to a room,
Locked from the outside but through a keyhole,
Onto a bed, it dropped me,
Seemed liked a distant memory had shocked me,
The drop felt familiar,
The one I did in younger the years,
Then it took me to the place I had seen before,
The place where my grandfather would roll glasses on his ears,
And would call my name with a thunder,
It swooshed past the kitchen,
The flame had rested for many the years,
I remembered the burn I got from the experiment,
I want to be a…

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