The heavy heat of the noon
That dulls but doesn’t
allow ease
Is borne only in the hope
that soon
Evening will visit with breezy gifts
But when that doesn’t
happen, when there’s still no respite
Wait for dreamless sleep to
put its gentle hand across you, just as you like.
First published in
Torrid Literature Journal, 1 April 2014.
4 comments:
What i meant to ask was - Is there no middle ground, between hope and waiting?
Reconciliation to what is?
Will settle for the hope of breezy gifts :)
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