A Sahar, Sahar, Sahar Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Sahar, Sahar, Sahar
You were there
I was here
The meeting was not where

It was vast desert belt
Some loneliness was felt
There lay some desire
Internal wish to admire

I could express through poems
It was like flowing themes
New ornaments in form of words
Taking me always towards and forward

I know your wanter may not reach
I shall be quenched for water dropp each
You may rush to me but alas!
You may not be able to pass

The dessert may boom the flower
Sahar may flow like shower
Provide solace to their deep root
What is let for another ideas to moot?

Desert may witness morning cool breeze
The atmosphere may cool and freeze
Sahar may find hundreds more to bless
Thought she may be lost and find no trace

I shall be waiting for gentle knock
The time is ticking in clock
I hear beautiful shout from the cock
Only to find my voice nearly choked

Is it not the wild dream?
The desert is heating with sun's beam
More and more thrust is pushing me in corner
Why don't you come sooner but not later

I desperately die of anxieties
You have tried in all niceties
This is what I dreamt of reality
You proved correct without any duality


I may not not live long to see Sahar
She is still Miles away and too far
I only look towards sky and star
Murmur with slow voice Sahar, Sahar and Sahar

• Sahar is poetess best ever known to me