Somewhere in this world, there’s a place for me

At times I yearn, while the curtains are down
And the cast of this interesting play, waiting to perform
I stealthily walk out of stage, without making a sound
And slip under my eternal bed, in a furrow under ground
A shelter to rest, a piece of land of my own
That shelters me from the sun & its heat around
And as the rain pours down...
The fragrance of mud on my grave soaks down
This odour, this soil is where I belong.

Bushra
2315 hours
Tuesday 24 March 2009