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The year 2020, mid December,

The last moon rose, I thought.

My eyes closed under the glowing

Winter light, branches bathed

It seemed in a ghastly moonlight.

‘The end seems near.’

My mind repeatedly regurgitated.

Unceasingly the  machine beeped

In the  hospital,

Shattering the last of my silences.

I thought I’d pray, if I were to have

A moment of serenity, but the machine

Seemed to be hiccuping- its last beeping sounds.

Would it live if I were dead?

Who’s to tell but the moon 

  • That watches over thousand souls.

© Mumtaz N Khorakiwala



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