Here in sombre October
Bonfire glows, ghost stories run, Halloween
waves the other side of the globe,
here in sombre October, when leaves
abandon their tawny shreds, many claim
to recompense their lost youthful exuberance,
picking up their leaves or pastel shades ,
a fresh brew in the log of fire,
many a walking goes on with
ambitions on the crumbled,broken leaves,
a twaddler comes, somebody’s daughter,
somebody’s bother, who knows
A Mother Theresa or Mona Lisa
In the offing, She moves on.
The leaves rustle and rue.
No comments:
Post a Comment