Dance, Dance Poem by Naveed Khalid

Thus, must I take sick leave that tolls the bell
at my door of rosemary garden,
her enchanting slogans of disparity;
me thinks not to a close afraid,
not least be worthy of thy perusal;
the wall on high at staircase window
of untread places beyond the sunrise,
I my secret hath kept to play a hunch for the parade,
away from e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
no dust-trodden feet upon the mundane shell:
can e'er illumine this world of my shipwrecked dreams,
I most my heart hath fed in nurslings of immortality,
a departed song of harplings took me o'er
with so much of extravaganza no heart can afford
so rich a phantom of chalice Wing,
beside the bed of oak at the behest of time's tickling toes,
a star is affixed in the constellations,
visitors pour forth from e'erywhere in my book
of pen-pricked angels that day of unaltered eye.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Tuesday, December 15,2015 3: 02: 47 PM