violin plays the memory of bruises
tint of blue on shiny overcoat from closet
a sullen man with glass,half empty atlast
with a greyline and specks,
listening to his wife's lament
grautesque daubed mask of the face
heaving sigh for something else
it's all papers around in silent room
to catch one on thousand he looms
what he wants is all perished it seems
tracking a path with shroud,which he redeems
speaks of his unreligious beliefs.
clamber upward,clumbered him
in tryst of success , dreams got entwined
lost amidst haze of his rebound choices
he shudders awake and swithches on his eyes
it's the old manor with dreams behind
where violin plays the "memory of bruises"
--RUSHIKESH [elrussa]
