Elbow Poem by Naveed Khalid

Thus, by far more this world I deny thee most,
of woe-begone days that bewailing night asleep,
Some scope this dream too shall find;
when I could hear the church bell toll at my door,
apart from where you tread the mundane shell,
above a funeral pyre, of snow-capped myrtle,
beyond the sunrise of eyes so blind my shipwrecked dreams
hath set this path in the backyard of my garden:
of departed looks to my mind still o'er the wall on high,
a wrinkled lip in my spilt words of cow parsley,
where squirrels make hoards in haystack of woods,
her enchanting slogans of disparity with thy music wither,
of golden tress his hair upon the strand of still waters;
a few dry leaves of book in autumn are lowly laid at thy feet,
ah, too weary with toil my day's work expires
that day of unaltered eye at sunset of the evening sky,
full ripe gourd of some hazel nuts in my account,
a horse-on-saddle at his knee touched the ground
ere in melodious accents I, I, had a lot of slack reign and kiss.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Thursday, August 27,2015 7: 59: 54 PM

*rewritten with inception of seven more lines.