Around this unsettled day
Desolate as a derelict house,
Grows ineffable sadness –
Dense like a jungle
Whose silence hoots scorn
For any intrusion, and
Occludes the sunny hands
Of a needed interruption ;
It is so complacent
In its peregrine kingdom,
Untamed, friable, and tangled
In the constancy of
An unavowed affliction.
The contexture of this monotony
Is chameleon like, rustling in a
Parched well of emotions,
And jacketing more of these days
With the phases and colors of time.
