Ishaisms, Poetry


Evening settles in,

curtains drawn on charades

of everyday nothingness

blue specks of sky fade away

the wind bows down to the earth

slight raindrops play sonatas

on roofs of tin.


I unpack my guitar case

and strum it in the silences

of my solitude, (a habit, a choice)

you don’t deserve my music,

the notes and the rhymes,

you don’t deserve my tears –

you never have –

and I know it now.

© Isha Garg

12 thoughts on “Sighs”

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