---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mohona
I met a girl today,
A quiet one.
Occupying a corner sit in the crowded metro,
Her eyes glistening with tears, that never seemed to dry.
Eyes that seemed very distant,
That spoke of stories,
Not of the glittering jewels she wore,
Or of the clingy Burqa that adorned her body.
The stories were of the war fields,
In a distant land,
Where the festive moon did not rise in happiness,
Where the only lights were of the uncontrolled fires that burned,
Where glee seemed to be long lost,
In the shuddering sounds of the bullets.
A land, where the crescent moon held no resemblance,
To the newly orphaned child.
The stories of the sour bloody lullabies!
I met a girl today,
A quiet one.
Occupying a corner sit in the crowded metro,
Her eyes glistening with tears, that never seemed to dry.
Eyes that seemed very distant,
That spoke of stories,
Not of the glittering jewels she wore,
Or of the clingy Burqa that adorned her body.
The stories were of the war fields,
In a distant land,
Where the festive moon did not rise in happiness,
Where the only lights were of the uncontrolled fires that burned,
Where glee seemed to be long lost,
In the shuddering sounds of the bullets.
A land, where the crescent moon held no resemblance,
To the newly orphaned child.
The stories of the sour bloody lullabies!
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