Wasted Flames

Burning in anguish,

it awaits its time;

A beggar yearns for food

for years before it dies;

Fake water is never enough,

It is but a reflection

of tattered hearts

that astound none but

the fated face looking outside;

Royal mansions are unworthy of souls 

that yearn for butterflies

and green caterpillars on yellow leaves;

The fire sweeps away everything,

consuming itself in a flame that used to be burnished gold:

It is a mere dyed orange now;

Now it is polluted with grey soot 

from burning bones;

Mere charcoal,

mere memories:

Dispensable;

Forgotten

©Geetakshi Arora

February 9, 2014