Neeraj Nawaz

The boy of hills

The boy of hills
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The Autumn will
No longer be beautiful
For your mother in war
who looked your ways
From dawn till dusk.

The breaking of autumn is here
With you – the first fallen flower
Who glowed even in the darkest
Who shall she live for now ?
When the Manan of her life
Is gone in sulk from this world.

No more waiting now;
Just the plumes of despair
For your mother in war
Who wished to see you alive
But now a bullet riden body
Painted with crimson hues.

Thy corpse in her lap
Moistening her lashes
with flood of memories
Of your happy childhood
And choking her to death

With people around her
To pay their fugacious condolences
She is still feeling lonely
As I’m here, sharing the grief
And cursing the devils
Wearing the faces of doves.

Poet is Freelance RJ and Scriptwriter. He can be reached at neerajnawaz@gmail.com.

Disclaimer: Views expressed are exclusively personal and do not necessarily reflect the position or editorial policy of Oracle Opinions.

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