The sky felt dense,

The mood it gave off,

Like moths in hue,

And butter flies in pale,


The showering of haze,

Over us at ease,

It’s not seen,

And there I won’t be seen,


The morning routine,

Of the everlasting gloom,

The day stuck in reprises,

And another one it seems,


It flies by scoring petrified faces,

Clipping by the nests,

It stays there,

For it, I won’t.

Poem “Raven” By Sarah Shahzad, January 2023

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *