Mohammad Ahmad
12-02-2015, 07:24 AM
O, my storable attire, whom I consult
All seem in trouble had never comfort
I am fatigued to bear once more
If no hilarious soul how could disport
I for this year not welcome saying" boo"
My stage has much painted through
To these notions I must be not blamed
Years make me more cozened too
Your face lighted up near my grave
As a shadow looks like a sticky wave
In my ocean, I painted it with my salt
Then it willingly decides not to leave
I 'do' heaped my grief to be a hill
It had moved down as small as a pill
I don't forget washing it more
It goes inside as a sharp drill
All seem in trouble had never comfort
I am fatigued to bear once more
If no hilarious soul how could disport
I for this year not welcome saying" boo"
My stage has much painted through
To these notions I must be not blamed
Years make me more cozened too
Your face lighted up near my grave
As a shadow looks like a sticky wave
In my ocean, I painted it with my salt
Then it willingly decides not to leave
I 'do' heaped my grief to be a hill
It had moved down as small as a pill
I don't forget washing it more
It goes inside as a sharp drill