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