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The rusts of broken sleep
and the sweet candor of sleeplessness—
I saw the eyelashes spreading
Their wings;
Across the meadow of another day.
Structures brimming with positive leaves;
The students need justice ,
And the stray dog sniffs
For his daily food.
The care contradicts his experiences.
There’s a man filled with guilt;
He needs an ear to dump
His insecurities.
I hear the eyelashes yawning,
With the voice,
Childish yet sharp,
Ready to put on your role—
The savior.
I found the scent of slumber,
A desire to stay back for a few moments;
Perhaps feel the pampering,
Not emerging out of the smile,
But pouring in,
Greasing the lazy beard;
You shrug off with your ‘have to’s;
And wash your hands
With exigencies and pending proposals;
Your voice talks with me;
The voice delivered in juvenile secrets,
A little bit of care
For the self,
Stealing seconds from the hours in need;
I hear the voice,
Half-asleep, yet conscious;
I hear your voice,
Telling me a story,
People rarely know.
Day 28; Poem 28
Crystallasia 