An adult in the cradle of love



Life's Like That is a column by Suresh Pattali, recounting his musings on everyday life

There ain’t nothing, this or that,

There ain’t no shore, here or there,

There ain’t no one, now or then,

For I’m a bastard of lost dreams.

Bring me a toy of vibrant hues,

To the beaches I ain’t sunbathed,

To build castles of loose sands,

For I’m a clown in the circus of life.

Bring me a tome, forget its genre,

To the shades of trees I ain’t slept,

To comprehend the chapter I ain’t read,

For I’m a student of passion unlived.

Bring me a prayer mat, old or new,

To the shrines I ain’t sauntered,

To say the prayers I ain’t learnt,

For I’m an orphan of broken faith.

Bring me a wind, gentle or fierce,

To the peaks I ain’t scaled,

To croon the verses I ain’t jotted,

For I’m a piper of sour notes.

Bring me a cloth, black or white,

To the morgue I haven’t slept,

To feel the warmth life ain’t gifted,

For I’m a martyr of unsaid love.

Bring me a flower, lilies or roses,

To the mount soaked in tears,

To feel the petals I ain’t smelled,

For I’m a peddler of eternal dreams.

No shores or meadows to stroll,

No music or lullabies to hear,

No nectar left to taste, I lie in the

Cradle of love, breastfed by my follies.

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