Standing aloof at the entrance
With a golden cup of empty hope,
drinking the tasteless flavour
Of a dreary petrichor.
blurry vision, hazyforesight.
As the yellow rain laments
Melissa keep zooming far-off places
Curiously gazing intently at corners
But had she look up on the tree
She would have seen the hollow bird mourn.
Throng buried their moans and speak silence
Mustering an artifice
To coat the disheartening truth
That her dear dad is dead
Silently sunk in deep sleep;
A forever lonely journey
With his bag of sagging shoulders.
She curtly fill in the silence
With a red soused eyes
Showing a non vied affection for him
"Tell my dad to come home! "
Come? When he's gone?
The irony stings the fresh wound
I will, I say
When I see her cry
A useless cry
Of course I will
Yes and yes
Only just
She knows
Not yet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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