Lonely Soul - Poem by Moh Ishu
The doors are shuttin',
No windows creakin',
Only weak footprints
Against the cold winds.
No food nor shelter,
Neither clothes to spare;
The leaves run helter-skelter
Seeing his brass and muddy wear.
They fail to understand his pain
Fearing curses may befall;
But, on the same level they too remain,
For, there's no difference at all.
Alone he walks and crawls, the poor soul,
Hoping they would change at all;
No one to fill his brass bowl
No one to answer his call.
Only frozen hands remain,
Of that body, where the blood ran cold;
But he can no longer feel the pain
For his heart took hold.
No one bothers, no one cares,
To take the poor creature from the snow;
His body remains cold and bare
But for his heart—it's made of gold.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You