entering dark*

The low sun raises the profile of dying leaves
Before they fall and become something else, but I linger

The seagulls divide spoils of war and
The crows seek justice or grieve, but I linger

And children sport bright colours and squeaky voices
In major battles of honour and pleasing, but I linger

And dark shapes creep out from their graves
To feast on the living, feeling for pulses, but I linger

Memories assault senses and trigger more pain
Just a leaf, carried by winds, I still linger


*An imperfect ghazal, I promise to improve

One thought on “entering dark*

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