Unlike You

    I'll carry on without your hand,

    fall along with slipping sand;

    Crushed underneath your feet,

    Mouthful words do retreat;

                As if reflecting me face,

                A potter's aroused vase

               With fine & round curves

                 As if stricken nerves

   My words smell disgrace

   Without rhyming beauty and face

   I'll carry on without such shine,

   As an abiding-stain benign'

         ©Zahid Mushtaq