SONNET 378
By JH Sayyar
Tired of work when I lay on bed
Your image floats in my dim eyes,
Owing to work: my eyes turn red,
When I think my love dying, rise
To see your face in the dark night
As cuckoos’ kids crying for food
Painful wait hurts! Words’ flight
Your eyes my verse, words crude,
Opening eyes sun cuts my vision
All day my dim eyes wait for you
Your weak image makes confusion
Either your love false or a life woe
When slumber into my eyes creeps:
Into soul: my poor wisdom sleeps!!
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