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Seema joglekar


As if the horrors of the day weren’t enough,
The night comes with it’s reprisal of torment,
Where nothing stirs in its darkest depths,
But the waking dream of a sullen heart.

A dream that eludes by the day,
Shies away in the world’s ghastly stare,
By the horns night wrestles it to stay,
The waking is what I cannot bare.

If not for the dark night.
Is taken for granted- the sunlight,
IWho would ponder on the sting of the blight?
If not for the rain’s delight.
Who could afford to lay a dream?
If not for those sublime celestial things.
If not for those flights of the mind,
Who would dare soar over those mundane things?
As every ray casts a shadow and a doubt;
One is always needed to balance the other out.

There in the woods I retreat,
Among those leaves that have their final purpose met,
But mine is yet to begin;
Waiting for spring to throw a riot.
As every tree must wear many a winter’s wreaths,
So must every life carry a few resigned breaths.
The dread that makes me yell your name
Paler with fright of the waiting game.

What I wouldn’t say in the light of day
Night takes liberty to cast away,
So that in my pathless way you would stray,
To undo the wrong &put an end to night by day.

With a kiss upon your brow,
Let the New Year sing,
How could my days be a dream?
If I call your name waking!


Submitted: Monday, December 27, 2010

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