There is a bird on wings,
and he has never found solace,
that in the world by time;
nor by love his beauty,
by Jove, can move me more;
but what by mind is writ ashore,
all for sake of poetry;
when a loitering star by night
pays homage to the moon
in ebb and flow the world beside,
a helping hand in sea of troubles,
is printed, printed upon the page.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2013.
All Rights Reserved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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