Saturday, March 17, 2012


I sit on the aisle for eternity’
Passers-by smiling at me;
I am used to the tinkles’ in my bowl,
My sense dictated by my ears.

I do not long for a dream;
My dreams are darker;
Imaginations in time and space are obscure,
Seeking eternity- panacea and my only cure.

My stick dictating my pulse through the thoroughfare;
I know there are colours;
I long for one – the colour of life,
Colours in the copse – ripe.

Open the gates of the past,
So that I can rise with those cloudy visions;
Let me shape them one more time,
Let me try and empower this blind.

Shamsud A
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