revolving cylinder
worn grey with honey gold stains

plucking at loose tired tuned teeth
on time-marinated steel comb

making Pachelbel wobble at
every wonky clang of Canon in D

singing dust-coarsened melody
that no longer glides

but trudges and


little ballerina
pink and poised


by age
still holds her perfect pose

and spins on


to an unsung song of


    to the

of a mother’s muted

heartbeat and

a child’s

first cry

*** Header image by Daniel Tuttle on Unsplash.

Hey guys, we’re looking for more short stories, poems and essays. If you’ve got some and aren’t shy to share it with the world, please drop us an email at Oh, do read our Submission Guidelines first. Here’s another poem you might enjoy. 

POETRY | The Child; The Seed by Anuradha Chelliah

Hey guys, this was an amazing read! I want more content such as this in my inbox.