Tuesday, April 15, 2014

I hope it comes, this poem,

and takes away all despair,
takes away the day that it
promises with rhymes, takes
away the promises the sun
has littered in its wake, hope
it takes away the waiting,
takes away the silk-cotton
tree, once all this, even the
eclipses go, then what is left
to me, that'll be the poem, right?
The one which I want to write.

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