It is the 8th year,
And the whirring gears clash
And croon the sounds of impending festivities
The clock spells 10: 19 in the evening,
The Rain Tolls
And the rain sounded like hail,
From the rooftops - a galvanized frailty
To whom does the rain toll?
At Night, I..
At night, I
Tether one lash to your eye,
The cadence of the wind striding
Resembles that of the restive exhaustion
Of the children wearing mittens
Beyond the Sun’s cold leash –
Again, Again, Again, Again, Again...
Some people are sodden
This is a mad carousel -
Mount each vessel
The Soldier's Wife
Slinging, with a gun that glinted with valor,
Oh the ineptitude in my face’s squalor
How she had wanted to become veiled;
With a soldier’s hand at the small of her back,