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Grey hibiscus.
Hangs the grey hibiscus,
Insipid in the indulgent lull,
As the songs of the songbirds
Dull and drown
In a sea of melancholy,
And a recalcitrance lingers
Like a loose noose over the neck,
The hibiscus smells no petrichor,
On the bloody Sunday that it chose
For its anemic bloom,
As the sun is anorexic
And the sky morbidly sombre.
© All Rights Reserved
Insipid in the indulgent lull,
As the songs of the songbirds
Dull and drown
In a sea of melancholy,
And a recalcitrance lingers
Like a loose noose over the neck,
The hibiscus smells no petrichor,
On the bloody Sunday that it chose
For its anemic bloom,
As the sun is anorexic
And the sky morbidly sombre.
© All Rights Reserved
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