In anticipation that hope,
would someday shine,
as bright as the sun of may,
and that the light of life,
would reach to him some day,
he continued to die,
each moment that came his way;
At last our neighbors,
friendly as they are,
turned kind,
for, forever, they couldn't be blind,
to a fellow human's plight;
At last they allowed him,
the breeze of his own field,
the air of his own compound,
what if, he now lay asleep,
in deep sleep and slept sound,
and needed air,
neither from the neighbor's,
nor from his own compound;
© Ajit Sherawat
Sarabjit comes home, dead
Ajit is presently working as a Preventive officer with customs and presently posted at Gurgaon. He follows his passion of writing ardently
