When I Was Seven Poem by Melikhaya Zagagana

When I Was Seven



Smelt a field grass-
Pale brown in the windless sun;
there lie a thirsty river in the far end.
No channel of rats acquainted; -

Men abroad the forest with lost regard;
hanging tears of women and children-
no voices but a trace of pity on the surfaces.
And - i was seven...

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