Freedom greets her in the night,
rather,
her sunrise comes to her
with the fall of darkness
like a pall of gloom.
In the foaming yellow lemon light of,
sodium-vapour lamps,
her preying moments start.
She slowly, stealthily,
emerges from the gully,
to the world of ‘her light’.
Her self-imposed slavery,
rather,
her self-imposed isolation,
starts with the moments,
of sunrise, ripping apart,
the fading attire darkness.
Her sunrise is he sunset.
Her sunset her sunrise….
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