The lost poem

Soft, warm light by flicking a switch,
carefully removing the delicate glass sphere
when darkness returns for a brief minute
until we replaced that tiny fragile item
we take for granted in self-evidence.
But how shall we replace the sun when
one beautiful day, it won’t rise
in the morning?
How do we return the tide when the tap
serves us merely drops for breakfast?
Where do we stay safe when suddenly,
our homes are made of paper walls?
What will we read, when one night,
the letters in our books turn invisible?
How do we find love when we wake up
and the only love we knew
has walked away?
Who will finish typing out our poetry,
when some day, there’s a power out-

kHXVTJ2

2 thoughts on “The lost poem

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