Musing 192 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

Those I meet in yesteryears
Those are in around or will be
Have all gone with the summer wind
Much before the sun set with clouded wings.
Every evening prayer even though are sonorous
Can not touch the layer of moral affirmation
Nor can delight the constellation of night fires,
Next dawn brings the wind return lost in motion
With charming delight of whispers of souls eager
To tinker with the feathers flying before the night.