Sunrays fall on his face
His face does not glow
The sun cannot itself erase
Its own shadow.
The pigment of his skin
Darkened by the sun
The beard on his chin
Bleached by the sun.
The sun never rises at dawn
Since his son fell at one
Where daggers were drawn
A rising and a setting sun.
He's been doing well
On a long stretch of pavement
He has some memoirs to sell
Safely kept in a basement.
At sunset a dog barks
It sounds like firing
At sunrise a god harks
He finds it rhyming.
3 comments:
The starting is stupendous....just a little shorter..the subject demands more words.....
couldn't find more words.......in fact this piece was written in a single go....a matter of 15 mins. or so. And I didnt want to spoil that spontaniety....
then in fact u did gr8....
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