THE DAY THE CLOCK STOPPED.
BY PUJA GOYAL
The window lies open
The path is swept clean
Somehow the cup of tea
Never runs cold.
She places the black roses in the vase,
Fresh as they are from yesterday.
They resemble the thoughts in her mind.
Life goes on...
The milkman comes again,
It is the fifth day -
She orders extra milk.
She sits on the portico
And stares again.
Deep and thoughtless her eyes wait.
Her expressionless face -
“A Portrait in Disguise”
Her posture -
Straight and composed.
The letter she received from her son
Was seven years and four days late.
