Time Running Out by Ananya S Guha

Wearing this mask
in childhood of winter
something rattles bones
ominous prey of fair weather
eyes bulge out
overwhelmed at sights of
skies darkening, a glint of hope
that night falls and dusk is
smattering sunlight
lenses prowl, overarching
spots like dew fall on sodden ground.
Living is for every archaic purpose
moments tie up with blues.
Juggle with words
open your mouth
it is dry, the blood is running
out of time.

Ananya S Guha ( 1957) lives in Shillong, in North East India. He has been writing poetry and publishing his poems over thirty years.

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