On Being a Task Master

the curse of being so high
: ts


you felt silence all around
listened for the slightest sound
hand cupped round your ear
trying desperately to hear

no humming of little tunes
no echo of spoiled fumes
your eyes dim to see the night
looking at the sky for a light

no teasing star sparkling
no more tearing smile coming
your heart filled with grief
striving badly to seek relief

you were loosing the loving arms
you used to comfort yourself with warm
your thoughts was bound, yet still
nothing is around

14 May 2007
© Era Fiyantiningrum