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May 15th, 2026
by Gautham Pradeep
A grain of sand in my hourglass, lying still on the narrow end of the upper half. I watch anxiously for I see the grain fall down, unravelling my yarn of dream into a stream of thread. Giving into the lured sky, I look rabidly into the slightest blue. Dipping into the foliage encircling me, the silence breaks open, revealing the rustling leaf. A single leaf, away from the rotted others, hangs on the winter drowse. Teeming with youth I don't understand, a surreal lustre of a dying self. And yet, there is my grain of sand, on whom I must entrust my woes.
About the Poet
Gautham Pradeep resides in Surathkal, Karnataka, India.
Read the poet's biography and Wax Poetry and Art publications
on Gautham Pradeep's Artist Page.
This poem is also featured in Comet #8, published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Keywords: memory lane, left out, solitude
Previously published in India Poetry Magazine:
The Pillow Holds His Whisper
by Sandeep Singh Madan
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