A shot, a sound to
terrify.
Bowls of milk ,orderly,
Neat in white melamine cups.
In good segments. Cats mew
And come closer
to taste,
Sparrows from
their ancient
Coves in houses, scatter and
chirp.
Raindrops
from roofs flood
The pillar
gates and floor.
No more word of
drought
In the dictionary, at least
this year Anymore.
Dark looms large,
blind our
Vision. You keep
writing and
Continue
to ruminate . The life
You witness,
the world you
see is not the
same.
The drama
enacted is not what it is
to be.
Burst of a
cracker ,sudden and sound
Of a blast enough to scare all of us.
Real fright
is elsewhere.
The
gates are open.
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