The Beggar's Night
The July monsoon night has long begun
Up! The creepy night celebrates with stars
When I lay my griefs on these closed street doors
With my brave rags and weak hope I live on.
When they are busy avoiding their sleep
I am fearing for where I shall remain
To avoid well-dressed late night beasts' disdain
And truthful squad's well thrown eulogy's heap.
I pour everything on street to heal
And hardly think that morning will cure me.
As spring is only for a seasoned tree
So with me, season has nothing to deal.
But some thoughts of comfort now knock at me
"Our nights were dreamt with soil. Mine is plastered!"
-Ah! The thoughts, everything is shattered
For the moon with clouds play hide-seek, in glee.
Storms sweep houses but these clouds storm my heart
Weak hope dwells like forged rupees on my bowl
And all of sudden like the love of fowl
Betray me within this nice rich desert.
Copyright © Isor Chand | Year Posted 2017
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