Saturday, September 18, 2010

An Irony Called Life

The wail of the new born baby
Silences the sobs
Of the son of the lifeless lady

A line of ants
Meandering through the elephant grass find
The lost locket
That the lovers, in their rush, left behind

And the soundless snake sways
To the snake charmers charms
Like Beethovan in a musical trance

While the moth flutters forth to the fire's light
Life extinguishes
But maybe the end of the tunnel was in sight

Although the woods do seem lovely, dark and deep
But in this life
You'll never know the secrets that they keep