Song Of A Woman Who Used To Know Me

By: Oshee Johri.

I sit here,
glancing at the recorder.
It plays what she used to hum,

Woman In Front Of A Mirror'. Painting by Mose Bianchi.

but it plays the melodies perfectly.
It isn't the same.
She used to get breathless,
when she used to run while singing.
She used to leave the song in the middle-
when I sometimes used to nuzzle up against her.
She used to laugh in between,
when I tickled her waist.
She used to forget the lyrics sometimes,
and I had to remind her.
Soon enough, she forgot the whole song,
when her mind tore her soul apart.

Near to the end, she forgot where she kept the car keys,
when I had seen her shoving them into her pocket,
five minutes ago.

The day my heart broke,
was when she couldn't differentiate,
between me and a passerby-
she was possibly drowning, in the impossible disease-
I'd failed to somehow see.
I couldn't save her,
my arm wasn't long enough,
to reach the base, where she lay now,
in peace,
thinking; she belongs in the sea.
Now, I look out the window,
see the dogs she used to feed,
and I glance at her pictures and weep,
as the song cuts the quiet.