While the world asleep, quite unawares
of vague quirks of the mind,
that by counting more in prayers;
from out of no where arise, arise,
this fedora of yore dream upon the sand dunes,
where you sit still brooding o'er the dale,
solving equations in your head
against a star of thy most high deserts:
I could see e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
of my shipwrecked dreams at sunset of the evening sky,
opes a garden unto my unweird eyen;
that by the sweat of thy brow to a close afraid,
some such dry leaves of book in autumn
hath rent at midnight lease in waking hour,
a heart-rending night by the sea-ashore,
that crow's quill of foul fawning bay at my door.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Sunday, August 23,2015 4: 35: 32 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem