Seventeen

Seventeen Springs cloaked in December,
Have flown by.
With them, the gleam of these eyes.
The shimmering rays of sun,
Fell into dusk.
Eons passed and lights met the eclipse. 
Hair barbed, speaks of dreams withered
With each passing month,
Her youth withers
Clamours today have replaced ululations,
Glances today are worth a shilling.
And the southern breeze;
Blows only to slither.
The glee of children at recess,
No longer reaches you.
And black walnut trees have grown,
To become the new fortress.
Beams seldomly flicker—
On faraway horizons;
Only to be overshadowed by cumulonimbus.

Himu Irene Harney is a prospective Economics graduate from North South University.