By Shahalam Tariq
TO DAYS THAT ARE NOW SPENT
No longer does this heart sing the way it did,
In those days of years past, when it's abode
Was in your arms; when in your eyes it lived
Or under the calm shadow of your locks.
It would sleep when the days got all too harsh.
Now it but murmurs rarely a few songs
From days of old, as the book of the past
Lies open on the table half read and torn.
Shahalam Tariq is based in Rawalpindi, Pakistan. His writings on history, theory and literature have appeared in The Friday Times and Bazm e Dana. His poems have appeared in The Writers Sanctuary, an anthology of poetry.
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