A Morning Surreal Poem by Shyam Chakraborty
A Morning Surreal
A morning surreal
not of words flawed
or ideal...
But faintly discern I could
in dayspring's atypical ambiance.
The breeze kept its pace
benumbing my winter ravaged face,
but new that can be seen by few
in a transient world of
transient countenances!
burden not of this world
but in psyche's mischief
snared in thoughts
haphazardly knotted!
Saturday, August 5, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poems
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5/5/2024 11:29:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
