Tuesday, 12 January 2016

Try walking on the heap of fallen leaves
strewn around , dry and brown and listen
the crisp sound  as you trample them .
Broken promises , do they have a sound,
is it necessary that everybody cries in pain  ?
The vagrant lying crumpled on the streets ,
what could he possibly hear on a cold night
as he wakes from a nightmare .
Living on the edge of darkness
just a slip away from  murky  shadows
Into the obscurity of gloomy oblivion .
Keep on waiting for the promised train
that will transport him  away
from all this reasons of misery , for once and all .
At a distance far away ;  all sounds fade ,
even the loud wails of tormented souls .
Drifting like smoke in  the vast expanse of space
scattered remains of silent unhappiness .

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