Love, if my poem stays with you
long enough- -
maybe for a hang-o'er or something;
and doesn't go away,
don't think I am doing poetry
or art of some kind;
but just that it is the ghost
of your magic, myth and folklore,
that haunts the mind
in intoxication of your company
on daily basis:
before it all goes into a sink,
and those persistent cries
to the dumb ear one more time,
are more enchanting than my poem
in your ever-living, loving memory,
lost in a rut of long, forgotten lines
when we turn'd our way
back home,
only if you can trace the path
of my dusty-rusty poem.
Ah! I wish I could write one- -
like the one you are or I am,
or else we used to be...
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2011.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Wednesday, November 10,2011.2: 33 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem