As the last ticks sound, before the sunset,

Birds scatter in the blue prologue to night

Trying to snatch the departing orange

That men of lady moon will blanket soon

A failed scarecrow stands in a gamboge field

With a crow-insulted face, dress undone,

Tendril infested, arms both at ninety

In hopes of catching the last autumn winds

A tap's a gimcrack when the water bleeds

But turns into a diamond when it stops,

Is it lunacy or lack of wisdom

That beautifies everything at the last hour

Midnight makes the retiring day young again,

Last love's scar fades when the next comes around,

This vile beast called life inside which we've been

Captured, seems kind again when at death's door.

~Ajay

14/11/17