Dr. Nabaraj Neupane
Grief-stricken hills
Laughed in the hope of
The ripe sun
Widow mountains
Blushed though
Expect Kleenex!
Alas!
The cunning stars
Descend onto the helpless earth
At a no-moon night
Again
Frustrated eyes
Sink into the sea of tears
And
Mister Night
Is spreading its icy hands!