and sweet as my dark, Indian rum
~Broken Wings~
Do not copy
INDIAN RUM
Kashiram is sweeping. his soft brush strokes
paint my morning sky with light.
he brings me water from the well
and locks the gate on my empty night.
we both are prisoners of bitter
lives in a cold world. but a smile from
his heart has a flavor as warm
and sweet as my dark, Indian rum
~Broken Wings~