you barely know these frail bones from fall
bodies flee from the drizzle of needles after dawn
machinations of the evening storm the sigh that is not mine
sober now the rain too slips under the cold covers
your quiet belongs here in the dark between stars
unmasked in a sea of surgical masks after dawn
the leathery rasp of thunder in the evening monsoon
forlorn and forgone bodies in a state of empty
the scent of petrichor still haunts the coast long after you are gone
winds part the grass and the hungry forest swallows traces of our presence
elancharan gunasekaran 