a poem by Mobani Biswas, India - poetry writer, author, poet

A gust of wind blows across,
The silent night makes it loud.
A dip in ice cold water calls the goosebumps,
Death, come fast.

The dogs' cry may indicate,
The silent footsteps that you trace.
But you are welcome here, so make haste,
Come to break the shackles, help to liberate.

The eyes cannot close
The ears strain to hear you knock;
The cage of life rattles on,
Fit the key and take the soul along.

A numb body with storms inside,
The hiss of each breath pouring outside,
The arduous wait is hard to bear.
Death, come fast.

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