O The Moon Poem by RAJAT GHOSH

O the Moon!
Mistake it was to hold thy hand
And to engrave thy name on sand;
A layman lying alone in this earth
Longed love of a so high by birth.

O the Moon!
When thou make love the Sky alone
Behind the veil of dark cloudy gown,
For a moment just set down your eyes
A soul there to paint picture of giant size.

O the Moon!
So high thy abode of fortnight wonder
The layman is ladderless to be a climber,
Under the torn tree with a broken heart
The experience is engraved only to hurt.

O the Moon!
So sweet was the days that were gone
When your spirited light prompted poet alone,
And bitter are the days that are moving so fast
And a failed poet writes with a broken nib at last.

O the Moon!
Have You lost and gone for ever?
No, no, no...perhaps never!