Too Late Or Too Soon? Poem by Ahmed Aedan

Under the decorated bosom,
there I lied,
Under the flowery shirt of dismay,
there I cried,
Under the tears of a lone woman,
there I hide,
The bells, the chimney,
the lamp with no hinges or bulb,
The casement ledges filled with moss,
the dim corridor where no one went,
The shadowy valley where everyone met,
then I knew it wasn't you:
But me hiding under the shadow of fear,
and remorse, again I knew,
Oh, I knew:
had to wake before the water-filled bucket of life hits me again.