It's not the air
Residing on the dark part;
It's not the care
Offered by the ghostly cart.
Seeing beneath from the top
Bending away from the bullet on its way
Sleeping with the caveman's drop
Almighty! It all happens in a day.
A thing of ugliness
Always comes in front.
Brings out the dwarfism
As small as an ant.
Defiant to move
Will follow the breath;
Sitting in every groove
Giving the essence of wreath.
Creating the disturbance
It smiles and watch.
A man seeing an unearthly glance
Running in midst, something to catch.
Shivery in there & quenching while duty
In accords of remembrance, missing the dart!
It's the thing of beauty
Very close, in everyone's heart!
