Naveed Khalid


Ah, those walks that we had of both
so intricately woven in the aurora of your dream;
and that pathway above the archer's bow,
where oft you sit still watching the skies
at staircase window of the wall,
of snaky entwines, that in seraph's wings unfold,
a shrub of wrinkl'd lip in my spilt words:
the beehive shook off her golden head by the stream,
alongside the purple pavement of cow's parsley;
I could see each flower grow in heaven's wilderness,
amidst many a moon stood, the tree, his faded glory,
had him beset too deep for woe, darkly lit in thy abode.

(C) Naveed Khalid

Copy Rights (C) 2013.
All Rights Reserved.

Submitted: Tuesday, September 02, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, September 02, 2014

Topic(s): light poetry

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