Poetry

When was that?
Months and years in a vat
Of such a blend
Of buried words
Muted laugh
And chat
The memory
Under my straw hat
 
The air dried
Brewed or belied
A glass of rainbow light
And casually draws
A few lines of white
In the blue
But in due time
They would disperse
With the wind
Of seasons’ spin
No wonder
My hair thinned
In the world dinned
 
(June 2007)