Echo Poem by Saroj Padhi

The empty chair to extreme left in class-room
stares at the big vacuum in my life's afternoon
like the blazing, bare sands missing coolant wind
in inner, intimate spaces, as they sigh and swoon;
the crescent moon on her cheeks no more rises
to grace the clouds of my desire in monsoon bloom
cross-marks on register bleed my days to death
on crags of crampy evening in its encircling gloom;
ripples in pond rue silent slip of a beauteous image
from corners of its eyes caught in constant mirage;
scented shrubs in the eco-garden recreate aroma
of her presence in the breath of all flora and fauna;
some books in library long for the touch of her hand
as the music hall echoes with her songs and her band.