Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Boodha Lament

A cigarette burns, deep and slow
In the night its embers glow
Smooth fumes aggregate
And my body – they enervate
But little does the cigarette know
That its life is about to go
Burnt and thrashed to the ground
Squished mercilessly without a sound
Dying embers cry away
Turning to a morbid gray.

The skies begin to weep again
Cold waters flood the drains
Now it lies in a puddle – vanquished
A life worthwhile, now dismissed.