Sop
There was a tear in his eye,
Whose eyes were cold and dry
For all the time i
Knew him, sigh.
Yes, one time he'd had a lapse
Of shattering grief, under wraps,
In a bathroom,
Vroom, vroom.
It shocked and scared me bad
i'd no clue what made him sad.
Ma finally got him out.
It was a self-inflicted knout:
He thought he'd made a mistake.
Wanted a new tenant to take
Upper, not lower floor,
That's what made him sore.
Another time i sensed a holler
When he broke a glass cover
Of a fancy gift clock.
i was readier, no shock.
The first stanza last, UK, '86,
Machines had him transfixed.
i was alone in native land.
My mother held his hand.
Tears' strange past, who can tell
Where they really ought to dwell?
For me, he didn't drip a drop.
Hey, these lines can be my sop.
Sanjib Basu 