Red Stain

I saw the golden morning fly away Holding the eagle's wings just around noon The warmth of the afternoon touches my reflection And running in the lap of the falling afternoon The silver afternoon is drawing patterns of twilight In the immortality of contented nature I am in my idol in downright darkness in the tide of existence that is mortal land of sand, cement, and gravel Painting a shameless political red stain on the translucent grassy canvas Still, I stand like an iron skeleton -18.12.2020 Chittagong