November 21, 2012

A Season without Remorse



I witnessed as you carelessly cracked lips
Making the gardens wither
Dust penetrating into every nook and corner
Flowers turning pale, fertile soil getting hard

Neither cherry notes nor a motive for celebration
Was programmed during your spell
For all hid under their blankets sheltered

Everything wet dries and becomes barren
Hot food turns cold and sour
Everything congeals like blood clots
Dead and boring all day

People dying, people born
Even during the harsh harmattan weather
Perhaps, you favoured us a bit

Good bye, good bye at last!
As many souls are cheering