Perched at the ridge
I wistfully recall
The days of mirth
Which elapsed
Like silent streams.
The lavish times
That uttered blissfully
Of pulchritude and warmth
Stand hushed as
The wronged stones.
The jolt that promptly
Led to crippled souls
And haunting ephialtis’
arose triumphant.
And the trauma,
as poignant as ever.
leered squarely through
My flesh.
pakhisaini 