Treasure Island

irum inayat

(16 Dec 1985 / Pakistan)

Gust of despair


A gust of despair
far from your sight deep inside me
where the days drown silently
and nights go by slowly
leaves wither in spring
barren valley of stagnant emotions
n the sorrows like snow flakes
sag down the land of my heart
where no wind of pleasure can ever turn
where the sun can cause no blaze but burn
where cavernous woods with no blossoms but fern
where every laughter casts no glee but a regret in turn
genial stances dancing naked rendering servile you
holding ma hands dragging me back
but here I am wandering in the allure of ma ruined woes
in the land of my heart where the gust of despair forever, blows

Submitted: Friday, May 30, 2008
Edited: Sunday, May 05, 2013

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