Un-named II
The morning
comes and brings with it
An unfinished Dream of leftover wishes
in an
unending stream
Which has run its course
And now
gently peters out
Into a quiet requiem.
The lonely
bird, it sings a song
In melancholy refrain.
It too must
know its sorrow,
For loneliness there's always
One more
painful tomorrow!
Happiness has not lain
Its gentle
hands upon my heart,
For I too know that in the midst
Of our
Friendship, we did part!
So fear not, oh gentle lady!
For life is
but a cruel unjust game . . .
And those who today we call our friend
Are
tomorrow's enemies by another name!
Contributing
Poet
Ruzbe
Mistry roshruz@gmail.com
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