Monday, October 31, 2011


A flurry of lights,
A bowl of sweets.

A light in the sky,
The old man looks at.

The moment or two it lives,
and dies in haste.

He stared full of envy,
and looks down at his veins.

A short life,
full of purpose,
is something he would wish for.

A grand child with a pataka,
He has for himself.

He stares with envy,
and looks down at a vein.

The flurry of lights,
a box of sweets,
and a lifetime of pain.