It Comes Secondhand

Hills are around for all the mind,
Lull him the scarecrow so he flies,
And whether he loved or hated,
The hills are existing due to bad health
As wealth became boring, and the
Mountains are creeping in to subdue.
Mountains are made of stone, just grey
Foam, the very foam of the sea that has circuits
On us at night or at the shore,
This is where catching thieves of sudden nature
Comes secondhand.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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