Oh, that phantom of chaliced wings
creates a myth of Sadeian world,
of what I write to my dear old folks;
and which goes unchecked by the west wind,
but you can read him in my ancient rhyme;
not wild that by wilderness to the mind,
oft is akin to our woe-begotten time,
fore'er lost in the fabric of our daydreams.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2013.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Thursday, June 20,2013 11: 45: 20 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem