Each day exist beyond word and memories
of peace stored to past – not to this mother and her baby boy
•
who lived like a couple of rats, hidden under
the creaking timber planks of
an uncompleted building
•
praying ordinary day for their kind hosts and aphotic haven
to stay secure from these misery..
•
The possibility that clean flickers like brilliant champagne
in the daylight became actually ludicrous to them –
in the floors of the uncompleted building, dust turns gray;
•
the floors are not golden nor did they sparkle
and that they made them itch and sneeze.
In the floors of the uncompleted building, day turned into fragile;
•
day seemed to them like of a handful of fireflies soaring
between the gaps of the wood planks overhead.
Whilst they idled in darkness with napping candles.
Day became like night time, however with the occasional footfalls
•
Every night time while the mother blew out
the final candles and kissed her boy goodnight
and the ground might creak its final
before silence took over,
•
the little boy curl into the form of a shrimp
close to his mom’s bosom even as her mother hummed
a mild lullaby and whispered in his ears
‘Sleep, my darling, sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day.
