by Soibam Haripriya
Morning began
with the anticipated
surprise of daily deaths
Afternoon's a stroll
to an ocean without a
shore where broken
boats of hope row away
in little ripples
With dusk
the drunken poets came
Afflicted by a strange epidemic of optimism
brought forth by bouts of nostalgia
When the insipid evening
arrived like a hermit with vows
of poverty I find insomniac soul
gazing wistfully at the end
of a graceful coil of a rope
No comments:
Post a Comment