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Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Good Morning to Me


Morning,
I saw you emerge from me.
How ignorant is man to not drink from your lips.
The songs of hope the sky left,
When it cooled the earth over night,
Revealing you the love child,
Of natures mysterious script written in delight.
I will be only morning,
Day, noon, evening, nights are the garments,
You change to sooth every mind,
For me, morning is what matters,
Without make up,
Adorned with songs of hope
The sky left,
When it cooled the earth.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 05, 2013

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