Saturday, 16 October 2010


The faded smile of a crescent moon
On lips that have just put a close to a poignant tale
Night is an avid listener sometimes agog, sometimes
Stunned into speechlessness
Footsteps echo on the asphalt path as I pass by
Drowsy lanes, houses, parks, drains
A stroke of a brush in soft gold hues
Midst a flame of red carelessly etched
Soft, smothered, wanton lines
On the distant canvas of the horizon
Leaves an unfinished trail…
A proof that He was here
The dawn breaks in with her subdued charm
And quietly lays a snare to woo walkers forlorn
Like me…
Who draw comfort from the sniff of a chill in the air
The lolling heads of the morning stars
The virgin white, autumn clouds
And a leaf drifting in nothingness
Aimless, clueless, homeless…

No comments:

Post a Comment