Three Cons Poem by Abdul Wahab

Like a thirsty bird
I look at my mirror

For a drop
Of justice

In return
He gives me back

My own face
Hiding what I hold

In my head
The images of love

And its sorrow
And pain

In my distress
I sought help from my shadow

He follows me
Everywhere

Copy me in ditto
But cunningly he conceals

The fire and the colour
Of its flame

Lighted by
The drizzling rain

And the melodious
Thunder

After being dejected
By the above two

And being a bit
Tuckered out

I ask reality
To spread a sheet

On the ground which
He does

But he steals the cloud where
I kept the sketches of my wish