Sometimes though, no reason though, moist are my eyes,
Gloomy and grey, with moon away, perhaps like the skies.
I am aware; no one shall come, so late and at such time,
I still await with the door open, a glass of water, and a lime.
I slide the curtain and say hi to the weepy sleep-less stars,
My ears, I keep, alert to hear, the sound of incoming cars.
Sometimes though, no reason though, moist are my eyes,
Gloomy and grey, with moon away, perhaps like the skies.
Last night, with a sad heart and broken rhythm of songs,
I felt holding a red-hot coal, I felt like I were tongs.
At such time, at such hour, I met, a smiling angel, serene
“Await a call from a girl tall; in the snow, stays your queen.”
Sometimes though, no reason though, moist are my eyes,
Gloomy and grey, with moon away, perhaps like the skies.
I push in a few, garments in to, an air bag with broken flute,
I push in the script of half written songs on my fairy, so cute.
I keep my shoes, ready to flee to a place I did not know,
I await the call, from a girl tall, from the hills, full of snow.
Sometimes though, no reason though, moist are my eyes,
Gloomy and grey, with moon away, perhaps like the skies.
For reasons inexplicable, our eyes wells up sometimes.We keep our doors open for the lovely song that we heard somewhere in our journey.An excellent piece of poem.
Lovely thoughts, Abhilaaj. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, my eyes tear up too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow I love the poem...