Sanatombi Angomcha


A Gruesome Guy

The road silent and somnolent
With a tranquil speech of its own
The only thuds of weary steps tapping
Down the narrow impoverished street
The dull street lamp half-yawns
And the old park bench shivers
A loaf of yesterday’s bread in his hand
A bottle of ale already half-empty
A disinterested smile he flicked

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