Dust rises in the city
Like a rebellion
And yet in the bylanes
A summer afternoon ferments
Quietly bubbling up under damp mold
And leaking pipes.
There are corners so dark
The sun never reaches.
Only the rotting stench
Tells its dwellers
That the season has turned.
We do not look for mercy or hope in rain
Life is bottled.
Like a rebellion
And yet in the bylanes
A summer afternoon ferments
Quietly bubbling up under damp mold
And leaking pipes.
There are corners so dark
The sun never reaches.
Only the rotting stench
Tells its dwellers
That the season has turned.
We do not look for mercy or hope in rain
Life is bottled.
1 comment:
what matters most is the time of this post, the best time catch the thoughts and preserve them forever...great effort...
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