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Nostalgia by M.A. Usman


A young maiden, ang’lic beauty, half my age,

Sitting long hours with me

Knee to knee;

Hurls on pebbles to the rotting water pool;

Agitates the age-old calm

Of the surface of the pond;

Raises ripples in the filthy, stinking flood

That chase each other in lazy close sequence

To the utmost marshy bounds.

Hibernated frogs and toads in the old pool,

Startled up by the successive fall of stones

And vibration of the ever-chasing waves

Hop and scuttle in much dread

On the silty, slimy bed

 Groan ‘n croak in dreamy, drowsy harmony,

 Yearning for the past repose in agony.

Finding their warm recesses blocked to them,

 Pop up to the freezing surface in much pain;

Struggle badly with the fleeting breath in vain.

Mossy surface of the pool

Is replete with carcasses

Of its dear refugees,

Turning it into a sorry, dismal scene.

Associate Professor M.A. Usman, GPGC, Bannu


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