• susmita_bhagawati 5w

    I'll come to you
    when dawn upheaves,
    but no date to count,
    nor any Sunday bidding frowns.
    Here feels no home,
    nothing like yours, heart of a chrome.

    I'll come to you at an hour of sleep,
    like fagged forever.
    Fool are the crying beings for
    happy are the dying souls.

    I'll come to you,
    you well-heeled,
    and they shall weep at a loss,
    a loss that gained a happy heart,
    a loss that won smart.

    I'll come to you the day, the happened would go, and I'd be disarrayed, lying within some wooden walls, with all the rest, unknown.