Loss

There are people whose interaction with
the world is ever so light,
like the faint scent of the thumba  that blooms near the fence,
like the rainbow hued bubble that wafts up from the papaya pipe in the afternoon breeze,
or the veena on the radio late at night-set low so as not wake anyone else,
their presence is gentle, their influence on the everyday hardly noticed,
And yet when they go, they leave an abyss in you.  

 

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