bhuvanesh-gupta-623181-unsplash (1)

If you love,
Then come not when the sun shines.

Come not when flowers bloom
in my yard, and bees buzz.

Come not when the moon floods

My thatch.

Come not when stars sparkle

Over my orchard.

Come not when friends and strangers

Circle me.

Come not when birds sing,

And squirrels squeak day and night.

Come in the dark hour,

When candles flicker not.

Come in the lone hour

When lie I ,
Bed sored,
And flowers wither in my yard.

Come in the stormy hour when Azrael will

Snatch my soul.

Come not for supplication,

But for a final adieu.

Come with a coffin,
And clear the corner

And bury me.

If all shun,
Fear not,
Be bold, be firm,
And alone you mud over my corpse.


Come close,

And put your long fingers

On my fevered temple.

And promise,
At this holy hour ,
You keep word.

Find a friend,

Don’t mourn,

Or shed tears.

All be the same,

The yard, the garden,

The swing,

Where in lazy afternoon,

We sit hand in hand,

And shriek.


Only find a friend,

Who’ll replace me,

And love you alike

In sun and shower,

And whisper strange words

At starry nights.


Share This

Abu Siddik

Abu Siddik

It's all about the unsung , nameless men and women around us. I try to portray them through my tales. I praise their undying suffering and immaculate beauty. And their resilience to life's vicissitudes, oddities, and crudities I admire. They are my soulmates who inspire me to look beyond the visible, the known, the common facade of the educated and the intellectuals.

Related Posts


  1. I am very happy to read this. This is the kind of manual that needs to be given and not the accidental misinformation that’s at the other blogs. Appreciate your sharing this greatest doc.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


Top Comments

Subhash Chandra
Read More
"A gifted writer"

A gifted versetile writer who writes excellent stories and poems on the invisibles, pariahs, margins, aged, weaklings of our society. A rising star on the literary firmament.
Santosh Bakaya
Read More
Praise for my writing

“Your story Undersell left me with a lump in my throat, so did your poem, He also lights candles.”
Louis Kasatkin
Read More
Praise for my poem "Elderly Men Two"

"A finely honed observational piece recording the minutiae of everyday life. Rendered with the author’s customary poetic aplomb suffused with a Borges like quality of the mythic."

So glad to see you here!

Want to be the first one to receive the new stuff?

Enter your email address below and we'll send you my writings straight to your inbox.

Thank You For Subscribing

This means the world to us!

Spamming is not included! Pinky promise.