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Perforation
I sit on the aisle for
eternity’
Passers-by smiling at
me;
I am used to the
tinkles’ in my bowl,
My sense dictated by
my ears.
I do not long for a dream; My dreams are darker; Imaginations in time and space are obscure, Seeking eternity- panacea and my only cure.
My stick dictating my pulse through the thoroughfare; I know there are colours; I long for one – the colour of life, Colours in the copse – ripe.
Open the gates of the past, So that I can rise with those cloudy visions; Let me shape them one more time, Let me try and empower this blind. Shamsud A If You Enjoyed This Post Please Take 5 Seconds To Share it.
