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The Season of the Heart
by
Uzma Sadaf
Still the windows of the memories are vacant,
The doors of dreams are closed from inside,
There is a strict watch,
The withered leaves and the chill air,
Is bruising the earth,
Blood is tripping on from the lips of the earth,
All scenes are intermingled,
Laughing, weeping, living and dying all seem alike,
The friends have also changed,
The condition of the heart is also being changed,
Some power comes and obliterated every word,
From the slate of the mind,
All the body, all poetry, all thoughts and dreams,
Has been swallowed by some dragon.
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