Run Of Days Poem by Madhu Mangal Biswas
Run Of Days
Some mornings, I wake up Upon this pathatic palace, Ushering the day is mine, Some are odd days smooth as the leaves of vine. Some clings; refurbishing old dusts, and season summed up in doubt, But no days more enthralling, When the misty morn-air says, LETS FIGHT IT OUT!
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: old,leaves
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8/6/2026 4:04:50 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
speak it out or fight it out! These are the options, when we have the clouds of yesterdays doubts!