Waiting Hour Poem by Lity Munshi

There's little left of life
And little in thereafter
committed to waiting hour
there's no one otherwise

certain things seem calm breath
soundless fallen leaf
rain water settles on stone
casting future in no more shades

tossing hope hiding scars
tossing lights in air
bare life thanking the glory
of departing, from owned land

no use of dwelling
no use of weeping
no use of yelling
glorious grief part of pleasure
beneath sigh laugh