My wrinkled fingers caress
the silken threads of your
favorite azure blue scarf
The old closet holds this soft wisp
of fabric lying obscurely
beneath a few threadbare quilts
The slight pallor which comes
with senescence, tugs at
my heart strings, yet again
I touch it tentatively, coz
I’m scared of losing this last
possession of yours
I inhale the memories
encased in its worn-out folds,
where your fragrance still lingers
Tears escape from the corners of
my myopic eyes, as you smile
at me from heavens above
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Priya Washikar is an English teacher and blogger. She loves to dabble in poetry and short fiction. She teaches Creative Writing and Poetry to kids and adults at her online classes "It's Only Words". She feels blessed that she's got an opportunity to convert her passion into profession.
Latest posts by Priya Washikar (see all)
- Sepia-Tinted Memories - 14 Nov 2022
- Senescence - 11 Jul 2022
- Drizzling Divinity - 19 May 2022
Beautifully poignant