On Her Blindness
An owl was out to trace
Her prey from night’s full grace.
Moon was pale, slow and full,
Though her mate’s face was dull.
The lake-mirror’s zest fades,
Cool and bashful as brides
Stars adorn the chaste skies,
And turns on the blue nights.
In small house roofs and streets,
Fields and trees, were her treats.
A Glow worm’s lightning made
The old owl’s vision fade.
Whom shall she may complain,
Of the loss of view plain?
Copyright © Tajudeen Shah | Year Posted 2013
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