The Conceit
The Conceit//
Razia Pell
It's only October.
The evening breeze is breathing the chill of winter.
Maple leaves are turning brown.
The flickering of lights from the distant poles are bored like beggars.
The rose-petals are mourning their deaths in the dust.
The earth knows its orbit- the sun seems to be lost...
I have turned my eyes.....the blinds.......
let the stars dance, rejoice and witness dark blue nights.....