Treasure Island

Abdul Wahab


Best Friend


I compose
the graph of the changing moment
with the blood of my mood

I break
Hundreds of ribs
Of my dreams
To build the pillar of my argument
On the dead bodies of my wish
Against each and every
Failure and defeat

These are kept
In the shelf
I do not know their utility
But in forlorn time
When medicines fail
To heal my sorrow and pain
I open them again

I tenderly touch them
And feel proud
As they are the children of my mind

At mid night
When reflection of life kicks in
And sleeps fly
The wolf of silence roars around
I take shelter among them
And they protect me as of my best friend.

Submitted: Friday, April 26, 2013
Edited: Friday, April 26, 2013

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