This Dead End Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

Must it be the creeping sounds?
On dead ends, dead corridors.
Fallen leaves are archaic,
and playful words a cliché.
I have lived too much longer,
The growing signs on other's
faces tell me.
Stand and think,
running makes no sense,
unless the stake is life,
and that too governed by fate.
This dead end has a soothing effect,
nurturing.
What is lost is nothing in reality.
Many are fed up from what you thought
as gain. And besides these old houses,
there are sleeping dragons of desires.
What a little wish!
I wish I could honor.

Jan 22,2011
Peshawar