My Rhyme
TIRTHNKAR Sumit
Hooghly, West Bengal
While writing down my tangled rhyme,
The words just won’t align.
A ghost’s foul word, a twisted chime,
Left me in quite a bind.
“Clang and bang, a screeching tune,”
The noise grew wild and loud.
A broken pot, a tree branch strewn,
Skulls flew above the crowd.
Then came a noise, loud and deep,
“One and one makes two!”
I lost my thoughts, names took a leap,
That sound just cut right through.
Lost in counts and messy sums,
The champa tree did call,
But soon a message softly hums—
“I’ll return tomorrow, that’s all.”