Wednesday, October 17, 2012

from within


Samples on the noon.
cry sighing nights.
sleeping time groan.
lest we sip.
now we forget
sometimes in a wonder
capturing the scene,
now here's the blunder
nails in the finger tips,
caught a cold in the heat.
Night time sweat drips, the forehead wiped away
erased with a cloth, the dirty cloth
now morning creeps up and hangs ya.
I know the day will sizzle the eggs.
The sun is melting the candle wax on your stomach.

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