World Literary Art Impressions Magazine No. 1/2022 – autumn
LITERARY SPECIES - POETRY
They will talk about us, when dawn has bitten the harvest of flames, after the pain has sated and the last prayer reached the after they will talk about us, when the blue has gathered our limbs, after the blood has washed the day and the rubble saved the last color of things. As kisses we will bloom behind the infinity, between the wind and the word, where beauty is not in a hurry. It was a Tuesday in September, or slowly and imperceptibly it was.
He waited for me Usha N. Shrinivaasun Lived I in an old fashioned village of Shropshire Where each house had a letter box on its frontier Where the postman would drop.our mail into its depths And later we would retreive it from.its post box red containers wefts A score of years passed and to.the city my husband and I did migrate Retired from my job and with my husband dead back to the village I did relate That day the postman had dropped the mail a letter had got caught in a the mail box So I had to.dig it out and so I opened the locks Along with the stuck mail another letter yellowed with age surfaced Surprised I opened the letter dated twenty years based 38
ISSN 2971 – 9267 ISSN-L 2971 – 9267