Poetry

On morning restlessness
Perhaps you lose your thoughts
Among wrinkles of your dark, acute brows;
Though the conquest for a portable sun
In crippled chronology of emotion, still exists,
The fliicker of trees hurling pain
Over the road to your logical ovation
And, some passers by would say hello while
You ære waiting for wonderful upheaval
You throw hands at passerine circle, leisurely
Edges in a land of disaster, in your
Cobweb of featureless recreation
Or pricking eyes through shattered glasses
For the decade amused in crazy alliance. And
Soon speckles of comfort appear
But you ære lost among velocities
Of green air and cynical trees that
The wistful sky meddling in deliberation.
Before the whirl on generous town
Transforms your scattered fantasy
Created in cautious footsteps, on thin ice of
Prospective year- you enjoy the ritual of
A beautiful summer wearing anarchies
But that bring on the happy revival:
You can reach the gates of dawn again.