Of wild hunches at midnight lease
e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
needest not in nurslings of immortality,
thy iron car at Matilda's farm,
beside the oak, of wayfarer's clime,
this world against the setting sun
my shipwrecked dreams,
of wrinkled lip in my spilt words
upon the sand dunes,
her night-long love at my door
of rosemary garden,
such stepping stones of darkened
earth's infernal grove,
down the lane in amber woods,
first frost of falling winter snow!
outspread in leaves of autumn
the dust-covered page of thy book,
I still behold under the Archangel's brow;
while musing o'er the dale in silent hours
besmeared with time and tide
upon the sea-ashore,
of e'ery loving grace thy most high deserts,
pricked with a furr coat in the cellar-barn,
of plucked parsley in dismal shades of
age-old grey, that fair youth in whose
of e'ery departed look in the late evening.
wide awake from deep inside, my mind,
still abides by thee alone, sweet maid.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Saturday, December 03,2016.2: 53 PM