all of them stood there
in the dark
often blinking their eyelids
like confronting with a dazzling light
actually looking for something
to see
the uncreated one was smoldering
under his own
around the street-lamps
moths aspiring to the light
and crumbled dreams
proud of his black spots
ladybird carries on wings
marriage hopes of ladies
behind his sharp spikes
the
like in the desert-
everywhere rolls of thistles
roll over and over
only a green stem
in the field and a white collar
guarding surroundings
only you, flower?
vainly, the shepherd tells
IC