Perforation

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Perforation

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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