It was half past ten
Of thirty ten
When the little stone ran
Ran towards citadel
Ran towards hotel
Ran towards brothel
Ran towards cathedral
Carrying red coloured flag
As smiles of thousand mothers were slaughtered
And singing little birds were fled
The mercenaries had a dream
Paint a sunset in the red sky
They found the brush near the graveyard
They found the paint from across the land
Pleading November rain the red stained dove cry
She has a role to play
In the game of deception and slay
For flying high in the circling sky
(A tribute to the victims of serial blasts in Assam, India,30/10)
Abhinav Baruah
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/30-10/
