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May 2021
The bonfire is lit warm,
It is comfortable as a quilt.

We look at the photos,
Inside of our wallets.

The parents, the wife and kids,
Probably for the last time we kiss.

Tomorrow is the final battle,
We make a treatise with death.

Either she takes the novice boys,
Or let us send them to her.
My HP Poem #1928
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl
Written by
Àŧùl  31/M/Kàrnál - Hàryáņá - Bháràŧ
(31/M/Kàrnál - Hàryáņá - Bháràŧ)   
1.1k
   Nobody and Thomas W Case
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