Ghost Of The Art Gallery Poem by Sasanka Sekhar Panda

That day
when you and me
were watching the art gallery
all of a sudden
in front of a painting you stopped
you stared at me blank
and showed me that woman
who was holding Death of the Earth
and a drop of tear was trembling
on the palm of the man in her side
like cluster of pearls.

At the very moment
I saw change in your face
I saw your secluded standing posture
beside your throne
and breach of faith in your eyes.

I saw you,
putting on a false gown
of temporary beauty,
and from that very moment
I felt that
day by day,
I am loosing all my belongings.

To-day you are not near me
for me
all the paintings of the art gallery
have turned into ghosts
and as if
I am the Death in the clutch of that woman
a drop of tear on the palm of that man
and have become a ghost of the art gallery.