The rising Sun
of one drab, grey land
spread hopeful rays;
showered lofty dreams
upon so many dwarf heads.
The Sun was up
soon in the middle
of the sky above
And gloomy hours
matured to pitch-dark night.
the beady eyes groped for light
the Sun was himself bright.
PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-jet-black-daytime/
