When

The sun is in the dark,
The fishes are dry,
The sky is looking for shelter,
And Music is groping for her own voice!

The idiot box is seamlessly befriending her,
The fridge invites her for more and more food,
The wrecked shelves of the rack are staring at her,
And the unsettled blanket is crying for her warmth.

The balcony gate is cruel like a cage,
The curtains are behaving like a mirage,
The bed she is on, is no less than a hideous monster,
And the Wall is hunting for the latent truth.

When will the sun rise again?
When will the fish breathe in water again?
When will the sky be her shelter again?
When will music sooth the ears again?