One sleepless night, squandering in my bed,
Flashing the torch, out of my blanket's net
The gleaming white, despersing in my eyes.
Through rustling of pines,
Crickets and the whip-poor-will,
The light, sieving to my ghost.
He's standing beside my, sweet desolation,
Gazing the moon, in the streamlet,
Thinking, how we ended up here?
The night is young when you have someone to hold on when tis cold and you are getting old Then she comes to play as you lay life proceeds in the same way for all we call human and learnt the passing of the lonely night by animals who taught and teach us so much still that's natures will
nice but why do u need a torch say what happened after the night fall more gals and guys need to follow u after all read more my romanticas also great poet
Thanks for finding time to read my poem. I used " flashing the torch" as an expression to my insomnia, more like lying in the bed not able to sleep and thus fiddling with things, say a torch in this case,
Well expressed thoughts and feelings. An insightful creation. Thanks for sharing, Sunil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
NIGHTS IN SHIMLA ARE SEXY TELL ME FRIENDS SO MANY NOW USE THE LATEST PILL U WON'T FOR AN HOUR STANDSTILL THEY SAY CAN'T TR AT 80