The Want for an Obsequy

Of mickle depth and surrogate associations
There is some thought that I inherit, or so
It seems to me. My lapel ends turn out to
Be more grey than I had thought they would.
A little shaded touch would do. What say?
A tinge of cashmere white or some red?
Like Macbeth I often want to wash it clean...
I would have delegated it to Raphael if only
I was in a different century and my soft
Hand perfection seems to fall short again.
I look around, weary and concerned,
At my repertoire of lofty magic shades -
And in my paraphernalia I find a void.
Just that and nothing more to count up on.
A blatant song would do for me, for now
Or just a noisy stream of serrated reality.
I would give or take none and all this once,
So take a song and give me my obsequy.

Author: Anubhav Kushwaha
is engineering graduate from IIIT-Calcutta
and is currently employed in Microsoft at Hyderabad.

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