Bouquet Poem by Naveed Khalid

Of what I write by love-sick thought on thee
in much too strained note,
her enchanting slogans of disparity,
not least be worthy of thy perusal,
of glorious days this world at midnight lease
hath rent e'ery flower upon a barren heath
in wild ecstasy of pure heaven,
needest no star of thy most high deserts:
that in silent hours of soliloquy blows a trumpet horn,
beside the bed of oak in the late evening;
some dry autumn leaves of book to my mind still
in my writings less than thy charms to beget,
of snow-capped myrtle at Minerva's golden brow,
thy iron car at Mathilda's farm, parked at clover beach,
holds such paradisaical injunctions in haystack of woods,
no dark can e'er illumine my love of e'ery departed look.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Sunday, January 03,2016 5: 33: 10 PM
Sunday, January 03,2016 5: 41: 54 PM