My Composer

My composer is absent from the words
Affecting with pride, managing to dine.
Many sides force me to reconsider the prize,
A pretty sign of a number that looks
Like a great character, of forces and laws.
My sandwich is full, and my cups and plates
Shall break, to accuse me is to want me.
Let them still assert the extra blessing
So that when I die my likenesses thrive.
The music of the soul carries weight
And melody enough to convict the felons.
This dying is a living, this living is us,
When we astutely gather the treasures.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!