By
Hira Azhar
THE UNSUNG APOLOGY
Small dark closed places
Rotten ugly sour faces
O Heavens! Your impeccable glory
I have to say but I am sorry!
O thou art of embracing the poor
O thou style of punishing the wrong doer
O Heavens! Your impeccable glory
I have to say but I am sorry!
The wistful wind of joys is gone
The rustic rustle of leaves is born
O Heavens! Your impeccable glory
I have to say but I am sorry!
See the child dead in sand
See the bird caged in hand
O Heavens! Your impeccable glory
I have to say but I am sorry!
Hira Azhar
Hira is a freelance Writer and Poet from Rawalpindi, Pakistan.
No Comments Yet!
You can be first to comment this post!