//Death//
Who says that I won’t die?Any day a mortuary van
can knock the door
to roll a rumble wrapped with reddened white!
Can I bet my eternity?
If they bomb my country,
my village and my house?
Only photographs page a history.
My long traveled friend’s sister
Gave a ring at mid of the night
And informed her brother passed away.
I imagined my picture
Carried by a few men to an isolation
And returned to inhabitation
Declaring me useless.
My grand child’s only daughter
Liked the frame to
Put her own
Tore off the picture to
waste paper basket.
I lost the last space.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.