Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
The Air Was Bright
There the air was bright as the morning scare,
This evening it was fair, with mild wetness due to cares
So meticulous that natures were supreme and just.
Their air succumbed to the bright stars of this night and day,
More of the goals sprang forward, more of the words opened
So far that fast speakers sprinted too hastily and rudely.
The strong oxygen was completely worn by the uniformed few,
Their prophetic nature offered a knowledgeable success
To the ruined of this land we call a soil and trumpet.
My evenings were fairer than the bellowing winds and thunders,
Hurting the feeding men who slackened in the rain,
Churches of doubt undermined the hundred painful men.
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