YESTERDAY'S RETURNS

YESTERDAYS RETURNS
Such are the returns
Without further goodbye
Without the thin slivers of the vine,
Into the stumbling of silence,
The sound of the last breath.
Thirsty for the slightest touch,
Glimmering in the pane's gaze,
With a sneer, unaware of
impending death welcomes
Forgetting the sight of the bright sun,
Forgetting the honey of
falling sound waves,
Silenced the thin gadget t
hat awoke in the chest,
embracing  the eternal truth,
All returns are like that without leave,
Without the shards of bitterness,
The sound of the last breath
To infinity.
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI