It’s just a sleepless night
with towers made of ivory,
A dreamless street
bound by destroyed dreams,
Somewhere there’s a key
to let us out from here.
It’s just a broken town
with dashed hopes and futures,
10-foot barbed wire fences
and the sounds of souls
once free, now prisoners.
Midnight strikes and deserted streets,
the hurricane of defeat.
Somewhere there’s a key
to unlock these gates.
Someday we’ll be free.
© Nishant Tharani 2007
24/9/2007
A Writer’s Island poem.
Posted by nish81 
