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Just Looking

Sometimes I will do this. 

Visit the blogs of people who are not on my reading list. 

Type out the addresses from memory and hit 'Return'. 

Wait. Knowing what I certainly know, yet I yearn.

Maybe I'll be proved right. That they don't write.

Or maybe, that they have.

When I see that last post. 

And find that it's a 3 year old ghost.

I become wistful. With a dash of melancholic, for taste.

Wondering why they stopped. Making judgements of lost potential in haste.

Could it be that they've moved to another ground?

To something like Whatsapp; more convenient, less profound?  

Perhaps staid routine claims another writer. 

Whose ink is fading, as the page grows whiter. 

I'll admit, the thought makes me sad. 

Though I know there's no use feeling bad. 

So, I'm going to fall back on that old standby; hope.

Visit old posts, reminisce and cope.

Wonder if the authors will ever rediscover the fun. 

And write again, even if it is a poem as basic as this one.

Song for the moment: Lamento - Melibea


bhumika said…
I see, I see...
And I know it's definitely not me

He inquisitively asked, 'But how do you know?'
'Coz I wrote my last post just 2 months ago'


G said…
Your wit & style makes me smile.
And now, my post was worthwhile.

Certainly, it wasn't directed at you.
Though surely your stock of posts could be added to?

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