Haibun
At Sunset
Tied up to
the cot, completely sagged by age and pitfalls of life’s twists and
turns she
looks up at the roof
and wonders if it
also thinks alike given the
chance by the
Almighty. How much
lost, how much she swallowed
unable to digest, how Time The
Healer is not the Healer but it went by cool and fast: She also now
pines for those souls
already enjoying
the freedom of the otherness of life in the other world,
whatever
One may term. Can she see
them, bring them back to be
seated by her bedside? An
Imbecile crave, she ruminates. Looks at those books
and publications and her quill;
Sleep
embraces .
haibun:
sunset
at sunset
a pathway in
behest
winding rills
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