Apr 9, 2018 Original Poetry
Empty
©April 9th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
I am out of Self today
Nothing’s left, not a drop of it.
I have scooped and scooped
Out all that I had, cup by cup.
My reservoir ran dry today.
And it was never that big,
To begin with, more a pond.
My pond-self had little tadpoles,
Though, and the frogs sat
On pretty lily pads, croaking away,
Ecstatic with the coming of spring.
Pretty flowers floated on it
Like accidental hope
And unanticipated reward.
But now, they lie, exhausted,
Drooping in the mud.
Sleep will help, I think.
The days grind on.
There are always things to do,
But dreams will keep me suspended
Between two worlds,
A hammock of comfort.
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