My Doctor’s Pursuit Poem by Naveed Akram

A long life awaits my doctor of postures,
He arms his house with weapons of ice,
Cold as the syringes that fire and plea,
Like soldiers who mutter their praises to generals.
A long life is a believer, a salty beach keeps
A longer death of the higher sanctuary.

A city will pursue the aroma of a sacred town,
My light duty is to keep the tomorrow.
Are you not feast and burden to the community?
Is not the cold heart a special design
From the creator who wins and sells the prices
Of a person who consumes liquids of water?