Of fealty's Apollo that hill view,
where I sit still,
watching the skies of thy most high deserts,
the suburbs below the shabby island,
a mileage to take far-off beyond the sunrise,
away from heaven's high bower!
hung aloft the ghastly night,
that carries no burden of thy yoke too dear;
heaven-ward bent my shipwrecked dreams,
ah, fill the cup with Mocha coffee,
dine the table, the chair, the bed of crimson joy,
beneath the sheer taut surface, a broccoli,
of untread feet upon the mundane shell,
they led me through the door of rosemary garden,
some dry autumn leaves in the late evening,
no eyes can see beside the bed of oak,
her enchanting slogans of disparity
hath weaved around my head
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights(C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Monday, December 28,2015 6: 15: 21 PM
* Title Revised from previous Meadow by the Cottage Hill
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem