Crumpled papers
Yet again blurt this lore.
Akin to the silent lips
That confess the days of yore.
Fragments of paragraphs
Yet again rise from ashes to roar.
Akin to the shards of the glass
That once kept her thirsty for more.
Stories of the unknown
Yet again begin to pore.
Akin to some deepest secret
That once lay riddled fore.
Shreds of torn ships
Yet again sweep ashore.
Akin to Sailor’s ambitions
That sailed across the seafloor.
Wings of dreams, but be sure
Yet again will soar.
Akin to life’s own way, it is,
Strangely just ‘settling the score.’
©Suyog Ketkar
October, 2021
The Wordsmith 