Morning

Morning of a solitary soul ...



                                                                 Morning

                                        I was lying on bed, half-asleep -- tired
                                        bitterness born in womb of sleepless night 
                                        clung to soul like taste of fever in mouth.

                                        Suddenly scream of a machine stabbed head;
                                        puss and dirt started to flow, reminded me of
                                        tormented existence popping the thin bubble
                                        that was protecting sanity with forgetful bliss.

                                        Morning turned into a dull extension of night --
                                        wish you were here beside me to light up the sky !



Annotation : The second stanza is based on a prosaic poetry written by my friend Adwitee (personal communication) .