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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 [email protected]



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