Sphinx Poem by Naveed Khalid

When the rhythm of a meter moves afoot,
not more thy feet in my lines count;
but the beats of my heart know,
how oft you drop thy skin-tight garment;
and in my words each note a measure,
knit up by threads of a silken-satin:
the world of thy untread dreams,
goes soaring high above the dale in silence.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Sunday, January 20,2013 2: 52: 51 PM