The Curfew
The Curfew


I took a drive on a morning
Fresh, on a road, paved flat
The hour ought to be ' a rush'
Alas! It wasn't except for some men
In uniform who looked weary
By denying the nights call
Where are you heading sir?
I was asked, I drew out a paper
Wasn't a pass, they hoped for
A note stamped duly in purple ink
I saw the grin melts into compassion
Please go sir, my condolences!