published: (updated: )
by Harshvardhan J. Pandit
emotional poem

The dark night feels warm,
In the comforts of my bed.
Today has gone by in a swarm,
Yet I think of dawn in my head.

Like whispering a few words,
In the heart of dying embers.
I think not of chirping birds,
But a busy ants' chambers.

The marching of the feet,
To the beating of drums.
Counting the things to do,
When tomorrow comes.

The night has robbed me,
I can no longer sleep.
My thoughts now run free,
Rivers that cut deep.

The melancholy sound that comes,
Too late I realize it's my heart.
I was too busy beating the drums,
To see my dreams torn apart.