The Last Grain

Tranquility,
In the moist breathe;
Seethes
Through the stifled throat
As beads of fear
Shroud the craggy lines of fate.

The netted beams of the moon,
Peek
Through the monsoon clouds
And the reeky night; they
Glimmer on the murky puddles
In the backyard.

The last drops of oil
Feed the wick; the flame
Flutters in the icy breeze.
A trickle down her cheek,
As the knells croon …
The last grain of time drops.