The game of death.

I think i have posted this one here already, but reading CN's piece's title reminded me of it :) and hence sharing again.


pre-logue: my eyes were boggled out, they were like two ping-pong balls fixed in the socket, light pink in color with impression of eyes on them, lids, lashes, pupil!! was i crying? may be! may be not! i didn't know.


the other day he reached out to me,
his wrinkled hand against my cheek.
the ordinary against the extra ordinary
the whiter him, against the brown me.
the soft against the hard
coffee with a whiff of cream.
the old and the old-like young.
the mature and almost mature!
the dying and the ... almost dying.
he died.
i lived.



this is written after the death of my maternal grand-dad.
sometime in 2006
.a.