Poem by Laila Ali Haid
The guile to brush the opening of the day,
The swept in news concerning the lover's play,
The night seeking under bedsits in blues to fortnights of calm,
A whistling of a heart so tender and dumb,
The rush to frantic hopes of enveloping changes,
Progression so far and few in the lies of the daytime,
Righting a hardship so foregone in the low feelings of this year,
I am swept by the moods so psychedelic,
The harder days here lark to me a song swept in eyes so tired.
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