Marching Ants Poem by Naveed Khalid

Thus, dear me! a mileage to take far-off
where no feet hath tread
against so rich a phantom of chalice wings,
such subtle reality of eclipsed doom
to bloody tyrant time,
stands apart from all the panorama
of this world forlorn,
awakes a wonder in thine holy eyen:
of erased looks to my mind still
her enchanting slogans of disparity,
of surpassing wit thy brow that in my spilt words
e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
oft steals looks from my bed of crimson joy;
not least to account for love
of thy most high deserts under the bolted sky,
ere I count you numbers in my prayer.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Monday, December 07,2015 5: 22: 58 PM