The Unwritten Epitaph Poem by Sachidananda Panda

This could be like any other day
The desolate drawing room waits;
Your gracious presence,
With an abortive reluctance
In between ‘May' and ‘May not'
‘Could' sprawls a gleam of hope.
Every article or artifact around
Moan the Melody of melancholy
As the delay lingers or stretches beyond.

As usual like the day before
You came, calling with conviction
To instill freshness to the somber air
As The Name plate spelt it right
At the entrance, Dr. Panda is ‘IN'
The dingy and dull got renewed ardour
Inscriptions became lullabies to my ears.
Sculptures statuettes lost their stony silence
Resurrected busts blushed, with your presence
Despite the fact; you are not mine,
And, am none of yours…!

The other day at my entrance
It spelt otherwise -Dr. Panda is ‘OUT'
You didn't step in, for reasons unknown
Despite the fact, you need no permission
The Drawing, the evening air
The sculpture and the statuettes
Might have had an endless wait
Yet, you turned away without a Tate-a-Tate
Flashy smile glimmered under the dried lips
Inscriptions returned to their icy sepultures
The Greasy face might have turned pale
Muffled and muted voice per certain
Might have quivered but gagged to yell
Yet..! One thing for sure; and you know it well
That you are not mine, And, am none of yours...!

This could be tomorrow or a day after
You may find it sooner or later,
The day; when at the gate, it will be written
Dr. Panda is ‘NO MORE'..!
Sculpture and the statuettes in my drawing
Might wait to multiply, memoirs may add pages
Inscriptions could get the wings of elegies,
Hands of time shall be numbed to trot
Artifacts around shall be left to rot
The wistful eyes that waited, sans a blink
Perhaps forever shall cease to wink
A soulful freshness would never stand and stair
A threnodic requiem might fill the Evening air

What shall you do then..?
For heaven's sake..! Put your hand on your breast
Tell me once; and be honest, what shall you do then..?
Would you come in..? Or turn away..?
When you know; you are not mine,
And, am none of yours...!
The question so simple and unsavory though
Until you get an answer to show
Allow the eyes buried or burnt
Wait to hear with habits old
Till that moment, I may meekly submit
Let it remain as an "Unwritten Epitaph"