Jun 29
2008Rapt, Pigeon-toed
Filed Under (Poems) by Hera Naguib on 29-06-2008
that the faces hung, they say
in the alley where we became friends
you asked for something beautiful
with a pebble in my heart, I hit the streetlamps
till in my face, you saw it dark
beside the wafted path where bow-legged soldiers danced
to an anthem, pale and distraught
it was in the country where you called my name, that we heard it again
sheathed in time and callous, it sung loud
yet all you did was watch
there was a crevice in your mind where life became beautiful
where lilies limped upon a smile
it was in the season where you called my name, that we felt it again, yet no
entwisted and rapt in reality,
whose is it? you asked
yet all I did was watch
pigeon-toed
this is a moment where no corner lies untinctured
too late, the drum rolls in your eyes
I ask for something beautiful
but there is a soldier that stands over your plate
and this is a country where I cannot say your name
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