Echoes of a Regret After Engagement
Our hands were restless
holding detectives brooms
with hope of sweeping storms
And our isolation have been exchange
with ecstasies
lurking around medallion of ease
to wind off doldrums from our feet.
Alas! Our ears had forgotten their fiendish
songs
& sundered our head from our neck;
plucking sad remix with tobaccos pipe.
Shall we forget this brooms
that swept our joy, & dust our dreams
into the turbulent zephyr?
Shall we cook the ears
that sold our head to affliction
in the pot of its unruliness?
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