The Hills Speak Poem by Naveed Akram

The hills speak to mountains for their illnesses,
Instead of alarming creations we are becoming hills
That heighten their awarenesses, leaving the green
Colours for powerful flowers of petals that dismay
With red and brown, the reddish-brown of the leather chair.
The hills are outside my friend called House,
This mansion feeds itself with gardeners of the milk.
Life could not complain like a widower,
Opening newspapers for the sake of caring nurses.
The mountains of the sky sit by the shining sea,
They are dying, there the death is near.
The last hours of the evening elapse
To seek more hills so devoted to crags and crevices
Of the heavens so late, the heavens are glad.