Roadside
Sitting on a side lane,
Looking at the night plain,
Holding cigeratte and pain,
I puff to passing train.
Aching noise of silence,
Lacking silver glance,
Another puff hence,
Without uttering any sentence.
I get up and walk,
Like a particle of chalk,
Undestined and alive,
As much as an oak.
© All Rights Reserved
Looking at the night plain,
Holding cigeratte and pain,
I puff to passing train.
Aching noise of silence,
Lacking silver glance,
Another puff hence,
Without uttering any sentence.
I get up and walk,
Like a particle of chalk,
Undestined and alive,
As much as an oak.
© All Rights Reserved