Scoundrel Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

As I hold them in my hand
They go flat releasing
Three months of winter into me.
I feel blessed and walked down
The path- strewn with cold leaves;
And where upon them mild sun fell flat;
I peep into sparkling round dews
Hanging from the pointed leaves
Sucking up the voice of the breeze
Squeezed rainbow packed into them- twisted;
I don’t like to tease their docility;
Crumpled grasses stick to my boots
As I walk towards a realm unknown;
Short may be my stay here
The mirror had lied to me
About the freckles and furrows
That grew luxurious in the pallor
Of broken promises and lost hopes;
Let me walk tortoise like
Till the hour when the dawn would
Tolerate me no more and vomit on me
The tortures of a slave woman;
Dig my grave and read the plea of
An innocent soul written
In the worm infested bones;
Let me die in my death.