Dearth

An unruffled and halcyon brio

ruminating me and my precocity

sonorously, the celibacy would

bring tears to your eyes;

deprecation, an outlying brain wave

seeping in my probity, very statuesque

and scrumptious, full of prudence and

rectitude;

The brain couldn't envision of soul and

death; this all in all was limpid celibacy,

my boyhood had fetched it in my

bosom, no malevolence, no

self-indulgence;

Face like a gossamery flower, glassy

and grinning one, having nay friction of

savagery, ruthlessness;

In my face, you could see the realm of

bewitching springs dripping,

Love to propitiate the fuzzy bounds,

Exuberance to illume the realm of

desperation,

You would discover no ordeal and

skepticism,

Unceasingly examining  larva arising

from a tight-knit cocoon,

Unfolding each wing, slivering the

sundown air,

Or

even a blossom newly thrived on a

midsummer’s afternoon,

the holy scent of yards,

Aromas of the food cooking in the

kitchen,

Sounds of chuckle while performing

something silly,

Stealing of Apple from Trees,

The deserted roads where we friends

used to stroll hand in hand,

The shops where we always got our

first seat,

The four walls, which often used to

reverberate with our giggle,

Those naive talks we used to do,

All things perpetually resurrecting my

celibacy, boyhood, and frivolity in my

being.

©Adi Adnan