When I Die
Every time you open the door
And turn the keys.
Small, grainy dirt
Now clings to my toes.
The chill of the wet cold air
Chokes my throat.
I feel my heart freeze
Every time I cough up.
The cushions beneath me
No longer not break my fall
As I step over a ditch.
Your six-foot-tall frame
Is now too big
For my frail frame to carry.
Like it didn’t hurt
Just hug me lovingly
When I die, and
Before you let me go
It’s obvious you can’t bury me
So off to the scrapyard I shall go…”
…the car said to the driver.
© All Rights Reserved.
©Ranjeeta Nath Ghai, Atrangi Zindagi Ka Safar, 2016.
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