Wet Reflections

Wet Reflections—

Flooded by the midnight shower,

And gazed upon by gleaming eyes;

Ahead, broken trees lay unheeded,

And thunderous sounds went quiet.

Otherwise by the scent of morning tea,

And the music of the wheels,

Plants became stones,

And stones turned into sand.

Flashes from a keen camera

Dissected hundred eyes,

And a flying bird was shot.

Where’s the light?

Where’s the torch?

We still see the fire burning;

We still see palaces in flames.

Wrecked hand-drawn carts lay

Shattered by the footpaths,

And alleys smacked of smoke.

The parks looked bright,

But the borders were dark.

Strangeness enough—I say.

Amidst gaudy dresses and restless binges,

Life was lacking.

Empty streets, empty buses, empty houses—

Smiling faces and glowing eyes

That never saw the need to cry;

While lay by the side

Crying faces which Time couldn’t heal.

I keep smiling still.

They keep smiling still.

Giants had lost their power—

Who was to be blamed?

The blame game continued,

Crimes went unnoticed,

And corpses ‘decked’ the façade.

Heavily distressed, heavily pained

Rests this reckless soul;

Let’s wipe the tears

And bury the corpses,

Purify the alleys and

Save the bird.

And still—

The lonely moon sings its song

On a full moon night,

And the sun keeps smiling from behind.