The shattered glass shines in the morning sky
strewed across the road.
Again,a noise is heard,
the neighboring alley has been concurred.
Sound of the shell that has been freshly dropped
fills the air;the smell and the shrapnel.
A moment of uncertainty passes by,
the breathing is fast
heart's pounding
Preparing for another one to fall.
The stall which was used for directions
been on four wheels for ages.
The kababs;smell of which waked up people from their sleep
The owner who had stood there
selling his stuff,cooked to perfection
but so cheap.
The only sign left of the stall
Is the one indicating its name
same wooden block lying by the lane.
The toy shop which was visited so often
The offers that couldnt be resisted.
The children who would enter with big eyes
Their expression worth a million dollar prize.
The doll has only its face left.
The other parts that flew away,
with the child that held it.
The laughter asthough;just moments ago
still fills the room
like a beautiful perfume.
The old age home
Centurion's siting on their easy chairs.
some little younger,going on with the daily affairs
Others newly inducted,hope that all of it is just a bad dream
and their son will come to take them after the military regime
The chair swings in solitude
cushion puffs up again;occupant who has been detached.
The son will return
grave has to be filled;name to be carved on stone.
All those who have fallen to the ground
some dead,others trapped under the collapsed compound.
What was their fault?
Why the benign always faces the assault?
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