Lipreading

Overdriving 
the silence in zero light, 
flickers of sickle moon were 
fading. 

There was a conflict between 
reason and 
conscience. My father was 
smiling. 

Where was the gold, he asked 
walking with his wooden�"� 
stick in jungle of tears? 
I kept the door ajar. 

A smoke engulfs my eyes. 
Before he died, he took 
a promise from me. 
I would not be visible.