Last Night Was a Struggle

Last night a struggle fogged the shrinking land,
The trees bowed from the sense of the way;
You squint, I watch, as the rights of civilians
Are discussed by the fogs and mists of the land.
Down the street we see Mr. Gulliver as he sprints,
And missiles look over us, with a reading of fog,
Special sites exist to consume the air rockets.
A wonderful glow occurs every now and then,
Toward the city a missile is sentenced,
To innards the reply is made for the hats.
My trees turn out to be windows
As they are shelled and opened then.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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