Incomplete

Took it and threw it inside the well in anxiety.
Water was the first thing I wanted that day,
Ropes slipped, untied.
A bucket floating aimlessly in the stagnant water.
A poem left incomplete, remained incomplete. Forever.

Ran like the crazy Archimedes on the streets to her gate.
A door half ajar, teasing me with its squeaking laughter.
She didn’t show up, again.
A poem left incomplete, remained incomplete. Forever.

Nothing pleases more than a cup of tea and a rusk toast on a sunny morning.
The wet side drowned like the titanic.
All I had was a piece, incomplete like my poem.
Incomplete forever.

– Vikalp Joshi (Words of Wonder)