Saturday, May 19, 2007


On the pavements
Impatient we push
The traffic light.
Perhaps the light pole's
The summons spot?
Or the Pedestrian's
Just the place
The angel descended?
Blindfolded we walk and tour
Places beforehand determined.
We sigh and whimper
About sights missed
In reality though not meant
To be, but we moan blindfolded
Even as the picked roll off
The heavenly reels,
Our fate decided
Ahead the rules we make.
Beyond the length notated
Crowd the files we keep.

@ Safi Abdi, all rights reserved.

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