Loneliness
This winter, the dogs are hungrier than ever
And birds get away from the rotten trees
The children abandon the orchard every afternoon
And the street cats wail in the lonely nights
Every dusk of this December, I'll go
sit on the cold bench of my orchard
And look at the withering red roses
Till the last ray of the sun departs
The house above the orchard is deserted
Windows rattle and the doors creak
Rusted doorknobs need oil and keys
But the reading lamp, in the corner, gleams.
- Ridah Tariq
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