MIDNIGHT

After hundreds of meetings
crowded the day
after tiredness were channelled
in intercourse,
like a bat
there is something that is slowly appearing out
wandering the streets
spin back the tick-tocks of the clock
which were spreaded,
scattered
all the day

in midnight
when the streets are abandoned
somethings are slowly out
and all we have predicted:
again and again
questions popping up
though there are,
behind the black expanses,
at the end of the long hallways,
no answer.

At midnight
after the streets are abandoned
nobody knows
what will lies
when the silences and the bats
slowly disappeared, expelled by dawn

nobody knows
what will hits:
again and again
we try to survive,
longing for other stories,
trivial tales,
designing other stories
all the stories that we know
will break
apart...

(Original poetry All rights reserved - © Zaim Rofiqi)
[P.S .:
This poem is contained in my collection of poems "The Love Song of the Sinners"
Publisher: Alvabet Library
First Publication: 2009
Pages: 116 pp.
ISBN: 978-979-3064-77-2]

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