The Residue


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The train snails over the bridge,

And abridged history flows in sheets there under.

Lights from the opposite bank

Try hard to swim across to this end.

Reminding that night has aged

Few strands shimmer here and there.

That lone boatman on the river

Breaks silence’s sway with his song.

The reverberating ripples

Gambol with the temple steps.

As I dip my hands

To snatch the intersection of tenses

Time slips through my finger fins

Leaving my cusp wet with experience.

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