In passing by summer, foresee any kind of realistic

gleaming, only to get surprised if no hope, no pleasure

was never there, what kind of desirable disappointed

solitude would gloom? To gain a sustainable sleep,

to find foes in kinship, it's hours of reposition

I'm still in misery, think/ frozen/ lying struck dumb

in tombstones, the rustle was always there—

"Perk your ears, only blades seize in mystified air!"

 I wait for each image to pass by, 

with sadness and pain, I silently wait—

Afraid of getting stuck in stitching machine,

Distance, coming in flame/ mistrust / overcoming dreams

His/ mine /your way paving stones in grieves, 

I fear not, the river stretch out from crazy flood—

Oh! A father cries for his mournful child.

— 7th October, 2023