Poetry

Idle Hours

The lonesome hours

                                                         Clung on the hanging clock                                                 /

Pinned to the wall

Creeps silently with curious gaze

At the inmates glued to the chair

The creaking cries of the cricket outside

Ticks the hours away

Nearby the hammerings

Break the silence of the day;

The sturdy wind

Rustles rudely through the trees

While they cling together to the branches

To hold and sway

The dripping rain

Hustles the birds into their grassy nests

As I gaze at the hour ticking away

Into the gloom of the day

                                 ~Shobha Diwakar

                                    Jabalpur, India

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