She felt like an old cave
Existed from the beginning
But never seen or visited
Flooded drained and bloodstained
Clothed in a heap of seaweed
Crowned with an insane amount of greed
She looks forward for tired footsteps
And wait for cuckoo’s lamenting anthems
Clouds are turning silent
Just like her crumbled mind
Here comes the refugee
Here she enters the same elegy
Kavitha Nair 