Night’s window is a makeshift looking-glass
Reflecting only spheres of wood and brass

You taught me words for dreams I did not dream
And hung them round with stars of wood and brass

I tended gardens sown with bagatelles
Where statues cried their tears of wood and brass

You crafted clockwork hearts and wound them up
Their mechanisms geared with wood and brass

You cried out; canyons echoed with your voice
I listened with these ears of wood and brass

When empty skies stretched over my bare bones
You built me wings veneered with wood and brass

The dragon’s heart beats metronomic time
I’ll measure out my years in wood and brass

Another ghazal for you.clock-1410680_1920.jpg