Mizpah

The midnight of the day hanging on my head

The curtains of southern windows dancing to blade

I look at the ceiling–the border of my soul to roam

I put my hand on my bosom and straight my legs

The drenched wind of Monsoon cafune me gently

The electric wind of the age-old fan spread over me

I close my eyes throwing spectacles at one side…thud…

And listen with effort the muffle beats of my heart…lub..dub…lub…

I feel lost…I feel serene…I feel cold

Is this what everyone talk of…the end…

But, I know I’ll not go before that autumn comes

I know I’ll leave after seeing the dream–

Hand in hand walking down a street…promises redeem…

–xx–

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9 thoughts on “Mizpah

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