Monday, 3 October 2011

it is mine

I felt that you hesitated when you composed me dear Lord?
sitting in you spleen, embryonic in your everlasting midnight
celestial morning a poem ,bundled in teenager arms crying “life over”

hesitant, brooding and on the verge of saying what I always knew

“ She did not love me”
“ She did not want me”

33 summers and this highway high noon ,the light shines so achingly perfect and sure
“whose light is it anyway?” a sideway beggar moans

“it is mine”


1 comment:

  1. :( that was sad, to feel unwanted sort of...
    thanks for the visit! :)