By Nasir Taofiqat (Tnash)
The stock of thought in sigh, burnt
In silent craves of morrow,
Though, time a clown ceased
Around her cloak of mystery.
Yesterday wore weary
Embraced dawn in grace
Only for today in her barren pod,
To chew hope, the talk of tomorrow
The tasty stalk is drained,
Out of tomorrow today stamped
Like purge of pestilence in wind,
Yesterday to Elysium is sentenced.
2016 Wares is buried
Exited into exile indefinitely,
Her tomorrow of hopes will call not again,
In passage of Time, her page is torn.