After the giant mushroom looking thing
Came down on the ground settling,
And grass and trees were not anymore there
To live and burn , sustaining the fire,
The child opened his tiny dreamy eyes
Only to find how his mother told him lies,
The night like day had swept off everything
His little toys, his cot and that lovely swing,
And his mother only told him it was a new magic
To find broken houses, jutting pillars and sooty bricks,
All around them a curious spectacle,
Blankness and blackish void how fell
And made them all the more alone,
Only living things , amidst ruins,
Only moving things in a necropolis.
No comments:
Post a Comment