Ducklings Ii Poem by Naveed Khalid

Summer of her full bright days grow old,
giddy, cold and numb
of seven ringlets, make a hallow
of the sun around my head,
not yet awake to eternal bliss in waking hour,
this world that knows no bounds,
becharms the skies of thy most high deserts,
my love, away from wanton tapestry at thy throne:
a love-sick thought on thee,
not least be worthy of thy perusal;
but which if from a bowl of stars you drink,
I can ne'er know how else unchained from thy brow,
such sweet-scented silence in melodious accents I, I,
more temperate than darling buds of may,
pours forth many a garden ere thine holy eyen,
that crow's quill beside e'ery flower
upon a barren heath to my shipwrecked dreams,
o'er the wall on high by two lovers dead,
that day of departed looks tolls the bell at my door.

(C) Naveed Khalid


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Date Created: Wednesday, December 16,2015 11: 45: 58 PM