You Die; I Die - Love Poems - Part 7 by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

8. NOSTALGIA 

The fish slithering in the claustrophobic swimming tank; had a nostalgia for swirling waters of the gargantuan ocean,

The flower sprouting from the cloistered pot; had a nostalgia for growing in farm soil; with an ambience of wind blowing tenaciously,

The spider crawling in dingy corners of the dilapidated mansion; had a nostalgia for traversing through vivacious threads of web; dangling from trees in the amazon forest,

The crimson beaked bird incarcerated in grilled cage; had a nostalgia for flapping its wings exuberantly in the sky,

The blistering lava imprisoned at unprecedented depths beneath the ground; had a nostalgia to fulminate into infinite fountains in fresh air,

The globules of fat moisture trapped in ominous thunder clouds; had a nostalgia for cascading down rampantly in the form of glistening rain,

The biscuits of glittering gold embedded in dilapidated dungeons; had a nostalgia for; people admiring them in dazzling rays of the sun,

The lifeless panther embodied in the mammoth photograph; had a nostalgia for coming out alive; open his jaws in a domineering growl,

The blind man traversing on the streets with a disdainful stick; had a nostalgia for sighting the world; fantasizing it in its most stupendous form ever,

The battalion of frogs in the solitary and deep well; had a nostalgia for bathing in pools of monsoon water,

The hunch backed camel trespassing through the crowded city streets; had a nostalgia for wandering languidly in the sandy desert,

The diminutive flames of wax candle stifling with the slightest of breeze; had a nostalgia for being the escalating flames of a crackling fire,

The granules of white salt jailed tightly in pellucid bottles; had a nostalgia for being sprawled on the saline sea shores,

The scientists stalling for time on marshy soil; had a nostalgia every minute for inhabiting the opalescent moon,

The tones of noxious gas encapsulated in an inflated balloon; had a nostalgia for whistling past the air at lightening speeds,

The pallid milk stored in canisters of rusty iron; had a nostalgia for oozing out from blossoming teats of the sacrosanct cow,

The people residing in alien countries; had a nostalgia for returning back as quickly as possible to blend with their native mud,

The orphaned child wailing incoherently on the dusty roads; had a nostalgia for embracing his departed mother,

And every palpable entity treading on this earth; had a nostalgia for finding its soul mate; languishing in the aisles of desire and perpetual relationship; till the time it inhaled air and blissfully existed.