Near Past

Dust on the table was telling,

A storm of yore

In the glen of breaths,

With duster, I took to clean

When wrinkles on the bedsheet,

Give the illusion of a shadow,

Two cups lying to wash

At a time were hot with sips

Of ardent lips

Left only a few prints,

On the bathroom floor, soaps

Cases and mugs

To keep them back to a place

They belong

It was a little ago, I felt enough

Contented??

If there is anything like enough

Only in myths

Body and the soul questing

Every now and than

For echo of the past

Again, again, again.