Never did I thought, Today
After 12 good years, Would be the day
When I’d actually fade away….
Into the black
That I was trapped
By an incident, A year ago, perhaps….
Before this moment decays
Me and my leftover days
I’d like to cherish the ways….
In which you painted
A painter’s tainted
Life, not with the brushes that had fainted….
But with every sniff
To walk a path, with every varying whiff
Of air, to speak, as if….
A friend would
Do, everything that he or she could.
Feasibly, you did better than good….
When the odds from 0 to 10
Weren’t in your favour, for you were seven….
Weeks old, when I had brought you home thinking you were cute
Whose howlings were mellifluous like the tunes of a flute….
But now you lie here, totally mute….
To describe all the joy you bestowed upon me, Words would come up a few
That too amidst your autoimmune curfew
Still I’d like to say, though it would be quite less, “Thank You”….