Culprits who Cry
A fallen twig on a budding flicker
borrows a breath from the dead
but dies sooner in an acquired fettle
wrapping the warm exhaled suspire.
A spark that flies a distance
escaping the ember, strives
to sustain a second longer
and see the glint in sobbing eyes.
The smog imbibes the wetness
leaving a parched perception
of a probable drought
that's sick of humid humus.
A cry consumes the remaining
in a pernicious circle that perishes
before the promised shelf life
as a punishment for the perseverance.
A seed sleeps staying silent
saving the subsequent timber
from stepping in a similar stove
smoking back a sworn statement.
A rising ray that fades this glimmer
reminds of a dormant dominance
that stays in background still
till the fallen falls off its face.