a poem by Sreenath

Here I am a loser with no hope
waiting for the first rains that shall never come
waiting for the orange dawn that shall never arise
waiting like a fool for the moon to come down.
There was a time when things were not so
when people used to love me, care for me
when the spring blossoms were in their bloom
when life seemed like a never ending song.
Everywhere I see the face of despair
breaking me like a stone shattering a glass sheet
breaking me every second, every hour
breaking my links with all who were once dear.
Somewhere I still get the strength to fight
but for how long is a question I dare not ask.